Orange Is The New Blue

by Estee

Rating: everyone
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Spike, Comedy, Rarity, Slice of Life, Zecora
Length: 24187

You'd think a spell which merely changed the color of things wouldn't cause so much havoc around Ponyville. You'd really like to think that.

It might seem like a simple spell. A truly basic working. All it does is change the color of something without altering a single other detail, and somepony just pranked Twilight with it. A minor joke, one with no real consequence. But it's still new magic, and so Twilight and Spike venture out to track the spell and caster across Ponyville.

You'd think a spell which merely changed colors wouldn't create so much trouble.

You'd really like to think that.

(Part of the Triptych Continuum, which has its own TVTropes page and FIMFiction group. New members and trope edits welcome.)

Now with author Patreon, SubscribeStar, and Ko-Fi pages.

Dedicated to John M. Ford.

Published 2014-04-09 20:10:03 UTC
Last updated 2016-06-24 22:55:40 UTC

Morning Blues

Twilight walked into the library's undergrown breakfast nook, or at least managed the feat with as much added stumble as four generally-coordinated legs could manage when the mind directing them had deliberately traded off sleep for research. As it had turned out, the sleep would have been both more effective and somewhat less damaging.

She blinked several times, locating Spike on the fifth attempt. The little dragon was in the middle of making himself a typical early summer breakfast, which in this case seemed to largely center around imported turquoise with some sprinkles of crumbled amethyst. It was a fairly balanced meal, if you discounted the minor side effect of making his breath smell less like overheated charcoal and more like whatever that last ill-self-advised attempt at retuning her field's basic signature had produced.

Carefully, Twilight marshaled all her resources. Focused every bit of attention, intellect, and concentration she still possessed into speaking the single most important words of her life.

"Wake-up juice."

That seemed to be lacking something. Twilight considered the sentence from every angle until she figured out what it was.

"Now."

The little dragon, still working on the garnish, shook his head. "We're out."

The shock went deep and uncovered a previously-unsuspected, strictly short-term reserve. "Out? How can we be out?"

"Do you remember staying up until four in the morning -- and that was before we started running through the first part of the decontamination protocols?" her brother carefully asked.

"Sort of..."

"How do you think you got that far?"

Twilight sighed. "Okay..." Well, there was no help for it, not to mention a total lack of other options available. "Then... coffee."

Spike planted his claws on his hips before turning, had the half-narrowed eyes ready to go before ever reaching hers. "Twilight -- do you remember what you told me it would mean if you ever asked for coffee again?"

She frowned. "Something about... my having lost all reason, memory, sense of taste, priorities, and wanting to have my tongue ripped out of my head anyway?"

"Yeah, that was the first part. Anything else you'd like to add in there?"

Twilight considered. "Yeah. Coffee." And since it still seemed like such a natural follow-up, "Now."

"Twilight... how much of last night do you remember?"

It took more effort than she wanted it to and brought back things she'd been hoping to ignore. "Pretty much all of it through the explosion."

"Good. So... when you're up doing research until four in the morning when the intelligent thing would have been calling it quits before midnight and resuming when your brain is fully functional again -- but all you keep calling for are books and scrolls and somepony to go through sets of sixth-year notes... who do you think is getting all of it?"

"...you?"

"Oh, good," Spike replied. "Logic." Most of the sarcasm was implied, but still effective. "And... since we're completely out of yellow diamonds right now, how do you think I got that far?"

His sister carefully hazarded a guess. "...coffee?"

"Coffee," Spike confirmed. "All of it. So what's your next option?"

Twilight sighed and, on the third attempt, managed to plop down on the bench. "Breakfast. Just... breakfast. Can I at least get some orange juice with it?"

Spike smiled and got to work peeling the semi-spheres. "I did try to tell you how late it was getting. A few times, Twilight."

"I know... and I didn't listen... as usual... I'm sorry, Spike, but I thought I was just so close. Changing my signature..." Her field manifested as the usual pinkish hue, recovered a waiting brush from the tiny counter and began distractedly restoring her bangs, or at least as much as they could be given a certain lack of late-morning acuity and the hours-removed loss of the pink stripe.

"...has been on your mind ever since you saw Professor Chroma do it in sixth year," Spike finished. "And you still can't pull it off, which means there's nights when you decide you just have to make another attempt, and with your field strength at work, every single one of them ends with something blowing up. I've never been able to talk you out of any of them. Ever. Last night, I actually thought I had the words which would work. And they still didn't do it." The claws squeezed, and juice began to flow into the glass.

Twilight frowned. Certain portions of recent events had yet to be placed in their proper filing arrangement, making recovery less than certain. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you were trying to get a cutie mark in it."

The wince felt as if it was going to freeze in place. "And what did I say?"

"Actually... that's kind of when the first explosion went off..."

The little nook fell silent for a time as her brother worked, claws carefully arranging the foodstuffs which would keep his sister going through a late morning with the library closed for an unscheduled and extremely necessary basement fumigation, providing her with enough calories to function while stopping just short of the border marked Now That I Feel Up To It, Let Me Try That Again. It was an art form and there were still days when he wound up splashing most of the paint on the wall.

Eventually, he carried the laden tray over. "Start on that. I'll go see how the shield spell is holding." The little dragon walked out.

Twilight sighed, exerted her field again, surrounded a short length of twisted hay rope with glow and moved it to her mouth.

But I'm almost certain what I did wrong. Thoughtful chewing. Instead of pushing a little to one side or another... maybe I went laterally? Doesn't matter just yet: shields aren't great at confining fumes to start with and given when I put that one up, it's probably not going to hold much longer anyway. First thing we have to do is get that cleaned out before it leaks into the library and we spend two days trying to separate stink and paper, which is mostly going to just be me.

One rope finished: she started on a second.

So the air purification spell, if I'm awake enough to handle that... maybe it's designed to work on magma fumes for Spike's annual health trips, but I'm sure it'll get rid of -- whatever I did last night. And then we've got to pick up the fragments, recalibrate the oven again, plus if any of the notes survived, they have to be copied out with a lot of strategic triple underlining added.

Second rope distractedly consumed: her field fetched the orange juice.

Then maybe a nap. And after that, since the library's going to be closed anyway, we'll have the time to start all over aga --

The thought locked up all four legs and majestically fell over into a pool of local reality, splashing most of the contents out and leaving her briefly floundering in the scant hoof-height of fluid which remained.

The orange juice... wasn't.

It was in the clear glass. The container itself was securely held by her field. It hadn't quite reached her mouth, mostly because her eyes had finally registered the nature of the contents.

The orange juice was -- blue.

Carefully, Twilight set the glass down on the tray. There were times when viewing an item's color through a field created distortions for the true hues, and given that last night's failed experiments had involved changing her signature, it was obvious she'd temporarily done something to herself which made fully-surrounded orange register as something else, something which would no doubt clear on its own in a few hours and if it didn't, then that was the schedule for the rest of the day.

She released her field.

The orange juice sat within the glass. She could see tiny bits of pulp floating inside it.

The bits of pulp were also blue.

She leaned her head in, sniffed carefully. Orange juice.

Her lips tilted the glass forward just enough to let a tiny coating of fluid hit her tongue. Again, orange juice.

Back to the visuals. Blue.

Twilight smiled. "Very funny, Spike!"

Somewhere behind her, likely near the basement access door, "Huh?"

"The food coloring! 'Let me just see how she's feeling today,' right? You made one little thing in my environment different and you were waiting to see if I was going to obsess over it or start twitching or just go Discord all over the place? I'd like to think I've grown past that, Spike -- even if last night probably did give you incentive for throwing a quick micro-test at me..." She winced -- but only for a moment, and then the smile returned. "Okay... reality voucher received and cashed, all right? I won't work on signature distortion today: I promise."

The voice was getting closer now. "Twilight, I didn't put any coloring in your food today."

"Spike... I get it. I was obsessing. Scroll sent, lesson learned. Thank you... and I really mean that. You jolted me back before anything -- dollish happened." She was almost at the point where, Luna-passed PTSD cure or not, she could very nearly remember that without wanting to ram her head into the nearest wall. Twilight figured another six decades might be enough. "But honestly... blue?"

The little dragon walked back in. "Twilight... I didn't --" and caught sight of the glass "-- is that..."

Twilight blinked. Turned, saw his expression. Went back to the juice, which was incidentally still blue. "You... didn't?"

"It was orange when it came out..."

The siblings mutually stared at the glass for a while. The contents expressed their opinion of the scrutiny by defiantly maintaining their hue.

"Discord...?" Twilight carefully proposed.

"It didn't explode."

"It doesn't always have to explode."

"We haven't seen him since Fluttershy... well, whatever she did. But I don't think he'd start with a glass of orange juice."

"Maybe it's his calling card," Twilight suggested. "One small change to get our attention, and then we know he's -- coming by... later..."

Neither could completely repress the shudder. The Princess was willing to take the chance. Fluttershy swore he'd changed. Nopony else had any real faith in the so-called reform.

They waited. The glass continued to sit on the tray, patiently not exploding.

"Or it could just be magic," Spike suggested. "Did you check?"

Twilight frowned. "No... lack of wake-up juice... hang on..." She reached out with her senses, tried to get the feel of the glass -- and exhaled. What remained of her bangs shifted with equal relief. "And that's it exactly. Just a normal unicorn working. So somepony's pranking me."

Spike grinned. "Could have been worse. Any idea who?"

Twilight concentrated. "I don't know this feel... not the caster or the spell... actually, how is this operating? It's not an illusion: it's a physical change to the properties of the juice while still leaving it intact. It's changing the reflective index without altering anything else: that's a really neat trick! Do you think it's permanent? The thaums don't seem to be draining, but it's not as if I've gotten to observe it for all that long... I should go find the caster right now and ask how it's being done! There isn't quite enough here to study for any attempt to replicate... I'd need to watch it being done a few times..." With increasing excitement, "Do you think they worked it through the window? It's open a crack, you know: a field could get through. But maybe the caster wasn't aware of it. If they got around differentiation without even trying --"

"Twilight?"

"-- I'm going to need the first sixteen volumes over in the historical research record, no, make that the first eighteen and the last twelve, start indexing them by previous experiments and I'll need my third-year notes to cross-reference --"

"Twilight."

"-- what?"

"Would you like to set up the first experiment on a doll?"

The unicorn blinked -- then blushed.

"Um... I'm obsessing, right?"

"A little."

"And I should really just wrap up the basement fumigation before I start in on anything else?"

Her sibling folded his arms and silently nodded.

"Okay... let's get to work..."

Twilight finished her breakfast -- mostly: the rest of the orange juice had to be saved for further study. After that, it was an air purification spell which had been designed to assist in survival within a caldera, and then there was a great deal of extra cleanup to be done because the working hadn't quite fit with what was behind the shield. But in the end, they got it done.

Which meant that it was finally the scheduled time for obsessing over the wonderful prank spell!

Hue And Cry

Most of Ponyville's population had become used to what others would see as -- odd -- behavior from the librarian. Twilight was prone to taking up full-time residency in her own head during those times when she had major problems to solve, which occasionally left her paying very little attention to any sensory input coming in from the outside. A truly issue-distracted Twilight had been known to walk into other ponies. Ditches. Buildings. Wild zones. Those who had been there since the day she arrived in town simply arranged gentle pushes into her flanks which would steer her away from major hazards while simultaneously keeping a close eye on the state of her pupils and checking for any twitches. The more paranoid tended to set up emergency barriers in front of the toy store while slamming an emergency curtain over the doll display.

However, on this particular occasion, the problem was one which stemmed from using a sense. And that meant Twilight was paying attention to everything -- as long as that 'everything' came from feel and the detection of unicorn magic it gave her. She wanted to know about this new spell, and she wanted the instruction from the caster. That was the top priority. The fact that she'd probably been pranked (although the possibility of a spontaneous Surge casting from a youngling or freshly-sparking child had not escaped her) wasn't a factor. Rainbow had taught her about pranks, from the harmless to that which the pegasus still perceived as such while everypony else completely failed to demonstrate the actual location of the border. As pranks went, for orange to become blue was a truly minor thing. The method by which it had been accomplished -- that was top priority.

Visual illusions... for some unicorns, those were easy. Twilight didn't quite have the fine touch herself: a certain amount of art needed to go into anything beyond simply replicating a sight previously experienced, and Twilight's lack of ability in that department meant it was a category of magic where Rarity outshone her (at least for detail work within a confined space, all of which had been planned well in advance). But this was a change to the way the juice processed light. What might appear to others as ridiculously basic was actually more complex than most ponies would ever care to think about. She had to study it.

And so Twilight was navigating through Ponyville on feel, unlit horn testing the air as her head moved from side to side. Looking both for traces of the magic which had touched her breakfast and the signature of the caster who had worked the little miracle.

Sight was a distant second priority, mostly ignored.

"Spike, those are my ribs."

"And that was a giant pothole on your right."

"It was? Why was a pothole there?"

"The fragment of scooter handle might have something to do with it..."

They continued to move through a Sun-lit Ponyville. Well outside her notice, citizens checked her expression and, reassured by the nature of the focus and a quick, sibling-unheard word from Spike, went about their business. They passed Roseluck's house to the sound of rapidly-closing locks.

"Anything yet?"

"No..." Twilight frowned. "You know, Spike, some ponies would see this as being really inconsiderate. Pranking me with a brand-new spell and not even hanging around to be congratulated afterwards? What kind of priorities are those?"

Spike was paying close attention to the exact phrasing of his sister's frustration. "And by priorities, you mean..."

Disgruntled, "We cleaned the basement first. I bet we could have caught that pony if we'd just put things in the proper order of importance and left immediately -- wait..."

Spike's eyes widened. "Are you getting something?"

But not as much as Twilight's. "YES! The caster must have just worked it again! A nice strong burst!" The slow trot was beginning to accelerate. "This direction -- oh, excuse me, didn't see you there! -- hurry up, Spike -- no, just get on my back, that's faster, we have to close in before the caster leaves..."

There was a frightened shout just ahead of her. As there were clearly much more important things happening, she elected to ignore it. Fortunately, the pressing of Spike's feet against her left side made her veer off on pure unnoticed instinct, sparing two colts, one wagon, and a completely incidental butterfly from a trampling.

"Twilight! Slow down! You've got to pay more attention to what's in front of you!"

There were so many times when her brother just didn't seem to have his priorities in order. Twilight tried to spare the breath for a particularly short reinforcing lecture. "Spike, this is important! If I don't gallop, I'm going to lose the caster! And I can't try to teleport when I don't know where we're heading!"

And then there was a scream. But it was a familiar scream, one Twilight could hear seven times during a completely peaceful week or a single especially-frustrating design session. The scream's owner launched the thing for unexpectedly straightened rooms and inadequate bedsheets, undercooked lunches served alongside precisely the wrong beverage, puddles of mud under picnic tables, along with anything else which felt like a proper occasion to a frequently-misplaced sense of drama -- and so Twilight had, for the most part, learned to ignore it.

Admittedly, this particular version seemed to be somewhat more panicked than usual. But Twilight still had to consider the source.

"Twilight, didn't you hear that?" Spike gasped, clutching at her mane as the unicorn's pace accelerated again.

"Oh, it's just --"

"LOOK OUT!"

Twilight didn't.

The good news was that horns were, for all intents and purposes, unbreakable, and so the point-on collision of bodies did absolutely no damage to either projection. They also didn't transmit the force of impact particularly well, which left the skulls behind them free of worries concerning cracks, concussions, and everything else which could have otherwise come from a full-speed ramming mutual reintroduction.

The bad news came when every other part of their bodies followed up.

Twilight was aware of a distant thud as Spike went off her back. It took several seconds before she could orient on anything else, and the total stranger was occupying most of her vision anyway, a unicorn she'd never seen before, one with a familiar shape of face and desperately flapping false eyelashes, but those features were largely masked by a color scheme which surely indicated a new arrival in town, even if that fresh branch had sprouted from a familiar family tree...

The other unicorn screamed a second time. It didn't seem to be from pain, at least not one of the physical variety, and a tiny part of Twilight's mind added a footnote to the blood relation theory while realizing with wonder that despite all prior evidence, it was now possible that the accent actually came from a place other than pure imagination.

The words which followed it ruined everything.

"Celestia's mane, how overdone is this? It would have been one thing if I had been turned into something which was merely last season, Twilight, or even a season before that, I could live with having been thrown back decades if it simply brought me to a place which others might see as vintage, but this... the shame of it! Should I find the pony who has done this to me, there will be a reckoning, this I swear under Sun. Please, Twilight, you must find a way to bring me back to myself, you must. I cannot bear to live this way, not in public, I would not have even left my shop but there were ponies there and I believed that if I simply galloped to you before anypony truly realized what had happened..."

Behind them, confused, startled, and in one case, seriously affronted ponies were departing from the Boutique. Twilight paid them very little attention and the now completely familiar pony on the mutually prone level was simply facing the wrong way.

"...Rarity?"

A sigh. "Yes. Still. Even under this -- thing. Twilight, please... help me..."

Both unicorns staggered to their hooves. Twilight realized she hadn't heard Spike speak since he'd fallen off her plunging form, glanced over to check on him.

The little dragon was staring at Rarity in open shock: eyes wide, jaw dropped, little wisps of flame leaking out. "You're... you're..."

A deeper sigh, one which indicated the designer had reached a place beyond mere screams. "Red. And. Black."

Blood-red for the eyes. The same in the mane and tail, only with thick black stripes running through both. And a coat so dark as to absorb Sun, seemingly dimming the world around her.

The altered eyes closed. "I feel like such a cliche'."

(Off to the right, out of sight and hearing, a very offended summer tourist stomped an angry hoof and trotted off in a huff, never to be seen again.)

"Rarity, listen to me," Twilight quickly insisted. "There's something I have to know right now."

"Oh, this was a fad for a time, Twilight. Ponies all over the western coast were dyeing themselves into nearly these exact shades, only not so intense, with some earth ponies and unicorns even trying to create the color-based illusion of wings along their sides while others added hollowed paper-mache horns, it lasted for three foolish moons and it was all I could do not to laugh as I read through trade magazines with near-identical covers, but now the joke is on me and none of my wardrobe may ever coordinate again..."

"Rarity, this is crucial! I need you to focus, right now. Look at me -- please?"

The red eyes blinked. "I -- of course, Twilight." Focused.

"Good," Twilight exhaled. "Now -- how do I look?"

Back to blinking -- then an abrupt widening. "Oh! You are checking to ascertain the change has not affected my eyesight! You are as clear as ever, dear, and I will not do you the disfavor of inquiring about what has happened to your stripe --"

"No," Twilight quickly clarified. "Are my colors normal? Other than my mane, does anything look different about me to any degree? Because different eye hues receive light in different ways! Blue eyes like yours are among the best at determining exact color shades, which is part of why you're so good at what you do, but red eyes... can you pick up on any changes in how you're seeing the world?"

"Twilight."

"Because I've never heard of anypony going through this before, and you might be the first ever who could provide a personal comparison between vision states! If we can find the pony who did this, and you're willing to run through a series of tests, we could put together the first-ever comprehensive chart! I've still never gotten to co-sign a paper with you, and you know I don't mind sharing the credit --"

"-- Twilight."

"...what?"

"My. Coat. My. Mane."

"...I could go through some of the changes myself...?"

"Please?"

Twilight took a slow breath, closed her own eyes and took a long look inside herself, consulting a personal checklist to make sure the items within were in the precise order they should have occupied all along.

The shame immediately shifted to the first entry and refused to take the check mark which would make it go away.

"...I'm sorry. I was just -- excited, Rarity. I've never seen this spell before and the caster pranked me with it. I was trying to track it down so I could learn how it was done. I wasn't thinking about -- the important things. I'm sorry, Rarity..."

The smile was gentle. "And I accept your apology, Twilight -- especially since on this occasion, you reached the realization on your own. But... if you have been pranked, I see no sign of it." Hopefully, "You have already worked out the counter?"

"The caster just got my orange juice -- and I'm sorry, but no." Before the designer could begin to drop into distress, "But there was only a little trace on my glass, because it didn't take very much to change it. To alter a pony... hold still, Rarity: let me see what I can get..."

The designer nodded, then held her breath. Twilight closed her eyes again, reached even deeper into herself, past normal magic and field workings, below every personal trick she'd ever copied, delving to the heart. To the power represented by talent and mark, the enhanced understanding of magic which allowed her to sometimes duplicate spells while getting a sense of how others truly worked or means by which the new could potentially be brought into existence at all...

She let the core of herself envelop her senses in a wave of love, and listened to the murmurs of adoration which echoed back.

"It's... not permanent." She opened her eyes to gain the final confirmation for something she already soul-deep knew. "Your mark didn't change. Not even by the thinnest shade. I can feel where the caster tried to make that alteration, but your mark resisted -- and that resistance is radiating out to the rest of your body. The thaums are draining anyway... but now your natural magic is dispelling them even faster. Even if I don't find a specific counter, you'll be back to your own colors in a few hours, all by yourself. If the caster hadn't tried for your mark... maybe two days. I don't think it can be permanent on a pony. Something without magic, something which isn't alive... then it might not wear off at all. But not on you, Rarity. You'll be okay."

Rarity's posture partially collapsed under the welcome arrival of relief. The ground near her dipped knees became that much more shadowed.

"Thank you, Twilight. Given that, I suppose I will simply bear it for that duration."

"I could experiment --"

Hastily, "-- no, that is quite all right. Allow nature to take its course. Very well... as a prank, I certainly suppose it could have been worse."

Spike's lower jaw finally went back up again. He worked it from side to side a few times before attempting normal operations. "Rarity... do you know who pranked you?"

She shook her head: the red-and-black mane did its best to cliche' the entire environment. "I'm afraid not, Spike. I was actually having a busy morning, at least for browsers. It is the start of summer tourist traffic, and so many of those choose to seek my shop and spend a few hours while not spending a single bit to go with them. There were many within my shop... so many that I had not spoken with all of them. I can tell you that they were all mares, but every age and color and mark... no. And when I have unicorn customers, there are always fields being exerted as items are gathered, tried on, and discarded without being rehung in their proper place. I certainly felt the magic hit me, but I initially thought some rather rude customer had chosen a decidedly impolite way of getting my attention. And when I turned -- I saw myself in the mirror."

Twilight nodded. "I have a better sense of the caster's signature now. If I'm close when they do it again, I might know it."

"Then I leave it to you, Twilight," Rarity smiled, and began trotting back towards the Boutique.

Twilight and Spike glanced at each other, scrambled to follow. The brother found his voice first. "Rarity -- you don't want to help?"

The dignified laugh. "Oh, I am certain I can explain myself to any who venture inside before the duration expires, Spike. It is a lovely summer day yet, and I have some faint hopes that browsing may yet turn to spending for one or more. It is simply a prank, dears... an effective sort when it came to jolting me, but ultimately harmless. As such, I will allow the time for it to leave, plus the two or three moons before I might start to regard it as humorous, and let it go. Simply tell me who the unicorn was after you discover the caster. Oh, and if it somehow turned out to be Rainbow? Inform me immediately."

Twilight frowned. "Rarity, I know magic isn't exactly your big interest, but something which changed colors... it would save you so much time and money on dyes..."

Rarity nodded as she approached the doors. "Rather true. However, I am also aware of my ability when it come to learning new workings, along with what tends to happen when I freely experiment -- something I generally seem to lose track of when it is actually happening. It would be useful for me, yes, perhaps exceedingly so. But for a unicorn like me to master a new spell simply because it would be in my general --"

The sentence died.

Rarity was standing in the Boutique's doorway. Staring at the interior.

The voice was not oddly calm. It was hauntingly calm. It was fully content with itself, locked in the sort of near-permanent peace which was found in better graveyards everywhere. "Twilight?"

"...Rarity?"

And this sentence gently suggested that many other things were potentially about to die. "I seem to recall your recently saying that such a casting on something inanimate would likely be permanent?"

Slowly, the siblings forced themselves to get closer, peered past black flanks to regard the shop beyond.

Rarity's wares had been...

...well, the accurate-if-for-once-unfair way to say it was that they looked as if the Crusaders had been attempting to gain a group mark in fashion design. While blindfolded. And dizzy. 'Concussed' might have been part of it somewhere.

The realistic way to describe things was to consider the possibility that a sufficiently-offended prism was capable of throwing up. Also that anypony who had to look at the revised designs just might do the same, and both wondered how Rarity was managing to keep staring forward, especially since she seemed to have lost the capacity for blinks.

The designer's voice seemed to be coming from a very great distance. Somewhere around Mazein, placing itself in the center of the minotaur Senate in order to turn words into some form of law. "Spike, did I ever tell you that I once briefly considered a career in politics?"

The little dragon wrung his claws. "Rarity, it's okay... Twilight will work on it..." The librarian frantically nodded.

Rarity ignored all of it. Dreamily, "Yes, politics. I realize that may seem unusual for one such as myself, but I am afraid my motives were misguided at the time. I saw it as a staircase by which I might climb to a higher social rank, not a means of helping others. Of course, I had just lost the Preschool Princess election and a certain amount of reasonable vendetta might have been present, but..."

Twilight now, with increased urgency. "Rarity, I'm going to find the caster: if anypony can dispel this without experimenting, it'll be the pony who worked it. Just give me a few hours --"

"-- still, my priorities thankfully shifted as I matured. And now... I can truly see myself turning to the political arena once again. Applying myself to a campaign and gaining the votes of our fellow Ponyville residents -- I can count on your ballots, I trust? The Night Court, I think: I would enjoy working with Luna. There would be so many opportunities to aid others there. In time, with seniority, I might even reach the point where I could compose my own legislation."

Spike again. "Rarity, we're going to fix this --"

"-- and then, after a simple vote carried by all the contacts I had created over the course of several terms, certain acts would be recognized as crimes. And they would be punished. Appropriately. As the creator of the law, I would of course carry out the first sentence myself, especially since, as an intelligent mare, I would have excluded any idiotic concept for statute of limitations. Personally performing the duty of punishment... a simple honor to reward a long life of service."

A long pause.

"Or, to save on campaign funds, I could simply track this unicorn down right now and kill her. Shall we?"

InfraBread

And now Ponyville's residents were trying not to stare at the trio as they made their way through the streets, a pair of horns slowly moving from side to side while a little dragon attempted to keep the potential trampling down from eight hooves.

Admittedly, most of the visual attention was being very carefully not focused on a single pony within the group. And there were some who simply couldn't manage that feat.

"R-r-rarity?"

"A rather dubious pleasure to see you today, Mr. Mouser -- oh, will you look at the matchless speed of that retreat... Well, it seems I have found a benefit, Twilight: apparently I am no longer even remotely to his taste. Not that such changes my plans for what is hopefully the very near future, but I accept what small blessing may come. Now: you are certain you have never encountered this signature before?"

Slightly frustrated, "I don't exactly have everypony in town memorized, Rarity."

"But your sense for such is superior to most -- and please do not deny it: now is not the time. I trust your dimmest memory of such things more than I do the sharpest clarity for many others."

Twilight sighed, tried not to blush, partially made it. "No... as far as I can remember, this is new."

Rarity nodded. "Which would seem to place the burden of guilt into one of three categories: a resident unicorn you have never had occasion to encounter, a filly who has sparked or infant Surge... or one of the tourists who take the ride from Canterlot on a summer day, mistakenly seeing Ponyville as a combination of low-rent shopping district and potential disaster theater while at no time considering how their entertainment will proceed should they actually find themselves within Bearer activity as part of the play. We can narrow it down from there. If only so many had not chosen to travel today..."

Twilight considered the presented checklist. "We could have overlap in those last two categories: visiting kids."

Rarity had been momentarily distracted. "Allow me to save you time, Flitter: yes, no, yes, no, yes, no, and whatever you would personally wish to see engraved on your tombstone and can appreciate from the shadowlands. Fill those in for any order you like." (The pegasus took a deep breath, caught the look in blood-red eyes -- then shrugged and trotted off, black-and-white kitten playfully trailing at the end of the harness.) "Yes, and that presents us with the same problem as the other tourists: that they could simply get back on the train or take the gallop to their homes before we ever reached them. Rather more likely for those with children to use the train, though."

"We could just go to the police, Rarity," Spike suggested. "This pony's already broken a law. This has to qualify as vandalism, right?"

The designer nodded. "No doubt. But the police have no authority to demand everypony simply line up and demonstrate that they cannot perform this trick. Even if they could, we would have the difficulty of showing that somepony cannot generally prove a negative. Should we be so fortunate as to find the caster with the proper signature, she would simply refuse to perform the working. I do not wish to involve the law unless they can actually do something."

Spike's claw-wringing was getting a major workout. "But... we're not just going to hurt somepony..."

There was a certain amount of protest coming from the street ahead.

"Hurt?" Rarity's laugh was insincere. "I, a pony of violence? Whatever would make you believe that?"

"All the talk about killing?"

Loud, aggravated, reality-denying protest.

"Don't be silly, Spike. I would never kill anypony."

"Okay..."

The sort of protest which could only be found in ponies who couldn't get baked goods.

"Mutilation will suffice -- hmm. What is going on at Sugarcube Corner?"

The trio listened to the yelling -- and then moved all the faster, reaching the edge of the crowd within seconds. Unfortunately, they then found themselves stuck there, as the furious mass of pony bodies refused to yield a single hoofstep of space to anypony who wasn't just as angry as they were, and for the exact same reason -- a reason which could only be found inside.

The crowd was too dense for Twilight to try teleporting in: any arrival point just about guaranteed recoil on the other end. Similarly, simply picking up crowds and moving them aside often offended. Yelling about Official Bearer Emergency could panic the populace and so she didn't use it until the Princess was actually involved: having Spike loose a space-making burst of flame could be worse. And if this had been happening during her first moons in Ponyville, she would have simply stood at the edge, forcing out near-whispered requests to please move until everypony there had gained the personal chance to ignore her.

But that was then, and this was now.

"Golden Harvest!" Twilight brightly called out to the first pony she could identify. "I'm so glad to see you! I've been waiting for the chance to catch up and find out when I can expect to collect your late fees! And Mr. Flankington, I do hate to rush you, but are you quite finished with that book of recipes from the Empire? Because that's on the library exchange program and now that it's officially overdue and the return stamp has expired, somepony has to pay for it to be shipped back. I wonder who that could be... Bon-Bon, I don't suppose you're finally willing to admit that you lost the book? It's so nice to see everypony out on a beautiful summer day, especially when I really need to talk to so many of them about library business. Of course, if nopony can afford to settle their accounts at this time, I still need volunteers for certain things and I'm continuing to accept a work exchange program --"

There were things which could make Ponyville residents move faster than encountering Twilight when she was on the library rules enforcement prowl. Most of them involved Ursa Majors.

The crowd did not completely dissipate: a number among them were fully innocent of all checkout infractions and for a sole pony who was not... it was baked goods. But it did thin out enough for the trio to pass through, and a lightly-smirking Twilight silently took the offered bits into her field as she mentally removed the carrot farmer from The List.

The bakery's interior hadn't received as much sound as the outer semi-riot, but a few ponies had gotten the gist and made hasty preemptive exits. It was enough for them to move inside, and the sufficiently-diminished volume allowed hearing.

"I want my money back!"

"We tried them," Mr. Cake protested, his voice beginning to grow weak from repetition. "They still taste exactly the same. It's just the -- color..."

"I preordered four dozen bialys!"

"We made four dozen. And then some. I took my sample from the extras... we'd never made them before and I wanted to make sure they came out right... I've never been much for diced onion, but I can certainly understand why you wanted to get them for the party --"

"-- they're bright green!"

Mr. Cake sighed. "I know they're green. They're green the same way the black-and-white cookies are now pink-and-mauve. My baguettes are blush. The rainbow cookies aren't. But it's nothing I did. Every last thing in here tastes like it should."

"And how am I supposed to eat green food?" the most recent pony addition to a very angry list demanded.

Mr. Cake's expression was one Rarity was all too familiar with, a look she frequently caught glimpses of in the Boutique's mirrors: the internal war between The Customer Is Always Right and Regardless, The Customer Is An Idiot. Rarity generally found herself applying a simple solution to the dilemma -- and as she watched, Mr. Cake's face slowly hardened into a look she also knew from experience, the one which resolved everything.

"So you've never had grass?"

Who Wants An Idiot For A Customer, Anyway?

The pony blinked. "...what?"

"Grass," Mr. Cake repeated. "Limes. Avocados, on the few times I've seen imports. Grapes for some varieties. Some kinds of particularly fresh hay. And that's just the surface of the green food tray. I could go on for a while, I really could. But I have ponies in line behind you and they all have things they'd like to say, so I won't keep you much longer. If you want your bits back, you can have them. I'm sure you can find another pony who's willing to attempt a bialy or four dozen on short notice, possibly in Canterlot. Or you can take this extra sample, which tastes like it should, which only happens to be bright green with so many worse colors available, and eat it. No charge for the bonus."

The pony paled.

"Of course, if you're worried about being poisoned, I'll just have half, if you don't mind," Mr. Cake added. "Pardon my onion breath, of course." He broke the disk along an axis, snatched the green bread up between his teeth. Thoughtfully chewed. Swallowed. "Actually, the texture takes more getting used to than the onions. Your turn, sir."

The pony, who was naturally close to a particularly ghostly shade of white, was now beginning to approach transparency. "It's..."

"Yes?"

"...green."

"You pass me the bialys," Mr. Cake softly said, "and I will pass you the bits. On three? One, two --"

Weakly, "-- I can't get any more by tonight..."

"I could make them again," Mr. Cake offered. "However, since the first batch is perfectly fine, I would have to charge you again for the second. And of course, I can't promise what color they'd come out."

"I'll... just take these..."

"As you wish, sir."

"And -- and I'm never buying anything here again!"

"So you don't want your preordered birthday cake next week?"

"...after that."

"The anniversary platter?"

"...and that."

"How about the Summer Sun Celebration party catering?"

"...I'm going..."

Everypony in the bakery watched the tail-tucked retreat. And at the end of it, Mr. Cake finally raised his voice.

"All right!" the baker called out. "Now that I seem to have everypony's attention, let's try this again! Nothing has happened to the ingredients! Nothing is wrong with the taste of any item! They were all normal when we baked them this morning and before you say one word again, Caramel, this has nothing to do with Pinkie! She lets us know when she's experimenting and asks us to label her personal products so we can track how they're selling! We all made these items together as we almost always do. We placed the pieces in the display cases. And then there was glow, and this happened! This is a unicorn playing a joke, one I don't happen to find particularly funny. I don't know who it was. I'd really like to and if anypony here does, tell me and it'll be donuts for a month. If anypony wants their money back for items where color shouldn't matter, just be polite about it. If you want refunds for things where it does... those rainbow cookies aren't making me happy, either. Please... we can all get through this. Calmly. It's just the look, and as much as I hate to say this of all things..." he visibly braced himself before proceeding into the full blasphemy "...it's just baked goods..."

Which was when he saw Rarity.

"...except if it isn't," he half-whispered.

Several ponies wondered at the sudden drop in volume. Had sudden bouts of curiosity as to just what had made his eyes go so wide. Those ponies, already stressed by the near-violation of their fundamental pony right to baked goods, turned to see what he was looking at.

Several ponies screamed. One sample among the group panic was particularly familiar.

There was a stampede. It was a rather well-directed short-term stampede which didn't do any real amount of damage on the way out beyond knocking over a few benches and trampling half a bialy.

And it was just the trio and Mr. Cake in a much emptier Sugarcube Corner.

The baker sighed.

"I could say something about the loss of business," he said, "but I think I'll get it back in sanity. Rarity, are you okay?"

"As with your product, the only changes are cosmetic," Rarity sighed. "Although mine will wear off. At least, the changes to my form shall: those made to my own goods... not quite. Do you mind if we lock the door?"

Mr. Cake shook his head. "Please."

Twilight's field coated the door, sealed it. "Where's everypony else, Mr. Cake? That was a lot for you to handle by yourself."

"Upstairs," the baker explained. "It was all of us down here when it started: so many of the tourists are stopping in to try out the local offerings... well, that's not just me, and Celestia help them when Mr. Flankington opens in a few hours. But we needed a full staff to handle the flow. Which meant Pumpkin and Pound were behind the counter... and after it hit, the customers... well, they got loud. Caramel blamed Pinkie, it got worse... the twins started to cry... My wife and Pinkie are upstairs with them, trying to get everything calmed down. They'll probably be back in a few minutes, especially now that it's quiet again." With increasing concern, "Is this something beyond a prank, Miss Sparkle? Bearer business? Is there something we have to worry about? Like -- you know..."

It was a very familiar shudder.

Twilight sighed. "It's a unicorn spell, Mr. Cake. Nothing worse. We think it might be a caster who either hasn't been in town before or hasn't managed a spell until now. Did you see anypony who would fit those categories?"

He frowned. "We were crowded, Miss Sparkle -- partially with tourists. And I can't spot everypony in a crush... Rarity..." and now he was starting to blush "...I hate to ask, you know I do, but..."

Rarity merely looked tired. "While I am aware of what my sister and her friends tend to create in their wake, Mr. Cake, along with having the repair bills to prove my direct experience, I have also been in her presence when the first hints of sparks began to appear, along with possessing some rather unfortunate memories of her infant Surges. Her personal tricks have yet to manifest in Ponyville -- but when they do, I will have prior experience with the signature they shall carry. And should it have been one of the other two... actually, I would not be surprised. But this magic was not hers."

The answering nod seemed less than fully confident. "All right. I wish I could be more help, ladies, but... we were busy, and I really can't describe everypony who was here."

Spike's palms slammed together. Claws clicked. "Yeah!"

The ponies stared at him -- or rather, two of them did. "Spike?" Rarity asked with increasing hope atop a solid layer of faith. "That sounds rather like the exclamation of somepony who's just had an idea..."

He grinned. "You can't describe everypony, Mr. Cake," the little dragon said. "You can't..."

The trio left the reopened shop twelve minutes later. There were fewer arguments breaking out behind them, mostly because there were fewer ponies.

In fact, there seemed to be somewhat fewer ponies around overall, especially for a beautiful summer day.

"Of the twenty-seven ponies visibly crowded into the shop when the spell hit, eight were unicorn mares," Rarity said with open satisfaction. "Four of those were Ponyville residents with whom we are familiar, and none of their personal workings come close to this category, nor does the hue of their field."

Twilight managed a smile. "That leaves four tourists, all of whom we now possess descriptions for -- along with the color of the field in question: shimmer-white. Sometimes I love Pinkie's memory..."

"So all we have to do is find those four ponies before they leave town, get them to use their field... and we'll know who it is," Spike concluded. With a certain lack of confidence, "Simple... right?"

"I hope so, Spike," Twilight replied. "If they haven't left already, then we've at least got a shot." But she was worried, and a glance at Rarity found the same emotion staring back.

There was a somewhat smaller number of ponies around, and those who remained... a few of those had a word on their lips. Twilight was aware of how ponies could so easily wind up acting. Thinking. Somepony could come to the wrong conclusion and before anypony really understood what had happened, the herd had moved.

It was just a prank, if an increasingly nasty one. Twilight knew it and would educate everypony she could find on the true nature of events. But the word was out there now, and there was always a chance it would rapidly spread.

Daisy had been in the bakery.

And the word she'd screamed was contagion.

Purple Prose

"Rarity, would you please not stand so close? You're darkening the text."

"Oh, right, sorry..."

The designer backed away, and Spike looked at the map again, visibly repressing a long sigh. "Okay... places where tourists might go..."

The search was turning out to be more complicated than they had originally hoped.

A good part of the problem stemmed from Ponyville itself. It wasn't a particularly large town, especially when compared to some of the more vast settled zones dotted across the continent. There were times when it was easy to think of the place as something just barely beyond hamlet, and running into the same ponies day after day created a sense of familiarity which shrunk the virtual image to something around the scope of ten square blocks.

But in reality, Twilight's move had been the first of many. Ponies had seemingly been immigrating since the day she'd arrived, drawn by the strange, the odd and for some, the chance to personally be just as strange and odd in a place where it felt as if fewer ponies would even notice, at least compared to whatever had happened three days prior. Others seemed to think the town was on the verge of becoming a rather distant Canterlot suburb. And more than a few just wanted the chance to be some part of history -- hopefully the part which survived to tell the tales.

Ponyville still wasn't a particularly large town. But it wasn't exactly a small one, either. It had spread out. And when the trio considered the sheer scope of their home, some of the raw distances involved between town square and dam and outlying farms and Luna's shoes, if their target pony actually tried to reach Fluttershy's cottage...

The trio had to try and cover all of it. And that was another part of the problem: trio. It was early summer... something which meant Bearers who couldn't necessarily be pulled away from their day jobs. Pinkie was trying to help the Cakes deal with the uprising. Applejack would be patrolling multiple sections of the Acres, checking on the early development of her crop -- or at the market stall in the town square, selling off the first harvests: Big Mac would be handling whatever she wasn't. Fluttershy typically couldn't (and shouldn't) be shifted away from the cottage for anything short of a full emergency, not with so many newborns about. And since nopony had heard snoring, none of them had any idea where Rainbow Dash was. Two unicorns and one dragon, none of them particularly fleet of hoof and claw, trying to cover the entire settled zone in a situation where they couldn't spread out because there was no way to communicate, much less come back together in a hurry should a lone member manage to less than corner their target.

Twilight had proposed lurking in ambush at the train station. Rarity's counter-argument had reminded the librarian that some ponies did take the gallop back to Canterlot, which left them splitting forces between the railway and the most likely bridge -- and it still didn't dismiss the chance that the perpetrator had already left town. In the worst-case, this was a teleporter with an arrival point and range which would let her get outside the borders: there was no way to track that. And if they simply waited at the more conventional exits... well, that was leaving the mystery mare free to trot about pranking anypony she chose.

There was no normal way for the three of them to cover the entire area. There was too great a chance of missing something no matter what they did. The group realization of just how thin their odds of finding the unicorn were had turned into frustration, and that emotion was now very literally wandering all over the map.

Spike traced a claw across the parchment, scoring it in several places. "The dam?"

Rarity sighed. "Spike, dear... whyever would a Canterlot tourist travel to the dam?"

The little dragon thought it over. "...fishing?"

"I am aware of but one pony who regularly endeavors to catch fish, Spike. She has a bow in her hair, a new kitten to feed, and I sometimes suspect she simply enjoys watching them thrash about on shore. We must consider the nature of our target. This is a prankster. What sort of prank would await at the dam?"

Twilight came up with that answer. "Changing the color of the water into something disturbing. But... well, we don't know how much effort has to go into the initial casting, but..." She glanced at Spike.

"Too much mass," Spike agreed with the unspoken remainder. "Way too much, when you figure for water weight."

Twilight nodded. "I don't think I could manage any appreciable fraction of it, and I'm sure she's not stronger than me. Cross off the dam."

Rarity nodded. "Let us consider her course to date. She passed you rather early on. The library is not particularly close to bridge or train station, so she had been in town for some time at that point. And you had closed the tree, so she could not come inside. After that, the two additional castings we know of share a theme: areas where one can shop. First to try on a dress or two before ruining every last --" a deep breath, and she reined in her volume. "-- my pardon. Then Sugarcube Corner. Do all three of these sites have anything in common?"

All three concentrated.

Several seconds passed, waved to bored minutes, and discussed whether any hours should be recruited into the pack.

"...offense..."

Rarity and Spike spun to face Twilight at the same moment: the red-and-black mane whipped the little dragon's spines. "Sorry, sorry -- Twilight, whatever do you mean?"

"The library was closed, she couldn't get in... prank..." Twilight considered. "Your shop... you couldn't pay attention to everypony, she was angry because you hadn't gotten to her yet... the bakery was crowded..." Worried, "Am I making any sense? That somepony would do something like this just because they didn't like waiting for something, or wasn't happy with what they'd found, or... I don't know, I'm not good at this..."

And to Twilight's great surprise, Rarity smiled. Not a wan one, or a soft reassurance, and certainly not the look which would indicate she'd found Twilight's concept to be funny. It was a smile of purest pride, and it undid every local effect of her changed coat before spreading out to lighten the world.

Gently, a tone which caressed the ears as the open warmth worked deeper in, "You are so much better than you believe you are. Three years ago, Twilight, such never would have occurred to you. Gauging an emotional reason for committing an act, and to this level of degree... no, that would not have happened. You are not the mare whom Pinkie met leaving the air carriage. You are, in so many ways, somepony else entirely. And both of those mares were, and are, my friend."

Twilight stood stock-still, eyes slightly dipped. She wondered how far the blush was radiating, if the fierce reddish bloom under her coat was simply emotion or a working of its own. Something which brought forth change.

"It is possible," Rarity continued. "Extremely so. Somepony who is extremely impatient, possessing a short temper to go with a means of expressing it. It does not give us her next destination -- but if your theory is correct, it tells us her reaction. Under the current hypothesis, the only way she would not use the working again was if she was kept entirely happy for the remainder of her stay in Ponyville -- and such a pony would be rather difficult to retain within a contented state. We do not know whether your concept will prove true, Twilight, but it is one we should keep in mind as we proceed -- and if we find her, do not discard it without contrary proof."

Awkward now, no longer knowing what the words were supposed to be, much less what kind of feelings should be coming behind them. "But it doesn't tell us where she's going... it doesn't get your stock back to normal..."

She could feel Spike gently rubbing her flank, and very little else.

That strange tonal combination of soft and firm now, a blade which only struck to heal. "And if we never manage to find her... then this moment was still worth it." A brief pause. "Something I may need frequent reminding of at three in the morning when we are working to find the counter and I feel as if I am facing the prospect of either double-dyeing my entire floor inventory or simply sewing a new lot from scratch. And that reminder may need to come in the form of cold water thrown into my face. For the sake of our collective sanity, let us presume she has not yet been so offended as to leave Ponyville. She seems to have been shopping... perhaps she will continue the trend. Shops and the market stalls in the town square: those should be the next places we look."

"But she could be happy in one place and upset in another," Spike pointed out. "We could pass her when everything's working out and never know it."

Rarity's nod bore the slightest touch of weariness. "Quite possible. But it seems to be the best hope we have. I know I have no idea superior to that, and am perfectly happy to entertain any other..."

The silence beckoned to a pair of additional minutes and asked if they wanted to join in a jaunt through the countryside.

"Okay," Twilight said, forcing herself back into full focus. "Let's go shopping. Everywhere. Multiple circuits. If we're still at it when the market stalls start to close, we'll see if we can pick up Applejack or Big Mac -- reinforcements. And when the stores begin to shut down, that's when we stake out the train station. Maybe put somepony at the bridge. Agreed?" A pair of nods told her all she needed to know. "Then here we go..."

And they went, moving down streets which seemed to almost be hemorrhaging population. Few stared at Rarity's change now, for there were few left to stare at all, and most of those who remained were the tourists who had no idea what the unicorn normally looked like.

They heard the cause before they saw it.

"...and it's a disease! A terrible, terrible disease! It gets into your coat and mane! It makes you look like somepony else entirely! Somepony evil!"

(Off to the left, still out of sight and hearing, a certain summer tourist who had gotten distracted on his way back to the train station stomped an angry hoof and trotted off in a huff, never to be seen again. For real this time.)

"You have to get indoors! You have to save yourselves! I'm risking myself by coming out here to warn you, and I know I've got my suit but I don't know if it's going to be enough against this disease, this horrible, horrible disease..."

"Daisy?"

The earth pony stopped. Stared down from her soapbox at the trio. Trembled where she stood, which was an impressive feat given that she'd reared back upon seeing them and two-legged vibration wasn't easy to balance -- especially while wearing the full-body custom-made Hoovmat Suit which rookie wild zone explorers used in the false, frequently self-imposed belief that it would help block out wild magic. It did not. The suits had all the resistance of tissue paper and tore somewhat more easily. The only thing they were good for blocking was most of a pony's peripheral vision, which meant that whatever wasn't even remotely being stopped frequently also couldn't be seen coming. The manufacturer avoided most lawsuits by selling them as a pure fashion item and mentioning that ponies might gain some 'incidental protective benefit', generally with a wink and smile which the buyer would spend long hours reflecting on in their hospital bed. When confronted in court, said benefit turned out to be 'You're bright yellow from head to hoof and nopony else in the wild zone will mistake you for anything which needs attacking'. Which was, in fact, absolutely true. The fact that the bright yellow made those ponies a beacon for everything else had a certain detrimental effect on repeat sales.

The Flower Trio bought each other a fresh dozen on every member's birthday and were looking into local wholesaling as a means of keeping the cost down. Besides, it was so clear that most of Ponyville was sadly lacking in the common sense which would lead to proper protection, but with a little education from the right ponies...

The Right Ponies spent enough time engaged in freelance education to have also invested in folding soapboxes.

"What are you doing?" Twilight asked, already fully aware of the answer.

"Don't -- don't come any closer, Twilight! Or you, Rarity! Especially you! You're sick and Twilight could be a carrier and Luna only knows what it might do to Spike! He could -- catch fire! Or catch cold! Maybe he'll freeze everything around him! Maybe he'll dissolve wood at a touch! Or --"

She temporarily ran out of ill-dragon effects to randomly toss out, and the new arrivals used the break to consider the ponies who had been listening. Some of the eight were shivering a bit, which Twilight didn't take as an immediate bad sign, or at least not as bad as it could have been. The truly panicky were long-gone and those who had learned to ignore the Flower Trio typically continued to do so until the actual alarm sirens went off. For the moment, these were the ponies on the border -- but there was no way to tell which side they would fall to.

"-- he could grow again! Or shrink! And the shrinking could be contagious! We could all be a single hoof-height if we touched him! Nopony let him get any --"

"-- Daisy," Twilight slowly began with a calm she didn't feel, "I'm going to talk now."

"-- everypony has to get to safety, we need to call Canterlot, we can't even count on the Elements when the Bearers are sick --"

The urge had been building for nearly three years. Twilight finally gave in.

Daisy blinked at her. Blinking was just about the only option left.

"Daisy," Twilight repeated, "I'm going to talk now. Actually, we're going to talk now. I won't come any closer and neither will Rarity or Spike. But you're not going to leave until we've sorted this out. Blink twice if you understand me."

Blink. Blink.

"I'm going to put you back on the soapbox now," Twilight told her, "and then I'm going to release my field around your mouth, and your hooves, and everything else. And you won't leave before we're finished settling this. Because if you do, I'll just bring you back. Okay?"

Another pair of blinks.

"All right," Twilight said, and let go.

Daisy stood in place, her increased trembling already beginning to shred the seams of the suit. The audience ponies held still, waiting.

"Can I ask you a question?" Twilight began.

"Twilight, you could be sick already, if Rarity's contagious... we have to quarantine her, we almost lost the town when Apple Bloom got the cutie pox, if any more of those lions had shown up --"

"-- Daisy... what kind of disease affects baked goods?"

This blink represented no kind of attempt to communicate. "I... I don't understand, Twilight..."

With more false calm, "You think Rarity's sick because her color has changed. The color of the baked goods at Sugarcube Corner also changed. How does a pastry catch a pony disease?"

To Twilight, it represented a simple moment of logic. The most basic train of thought run down a short stretch of rail with no obstacles present on the perfect straightway. An argument which would jump the track at the end, fly into the mountain of fear which loomed ahead, and take it out. There was nothing which could stop that kind of train. Nothing at all.

"...yeast?"

With the perpetual exception of pony stupidity.

"Yeast," Twilight slowly repeated. She had no idea what Daisy meant, and the part of her which knew she was about to learn also dreaded the moment when she found out.

"Yeast," Daisy said a second time with certainty tripled and speed of speech accelerating towards absolute delusional fact. "The Cakes use yeast for some of their baking, especially in the bread! And yeast is alive! The Cakes can't confine it to the bread pans! Little bits of yeast must be all over the bakery, sinking into everything else they make -- and every pony who shops there! So everything in the bakery changed! And if you ate the stuff, then --"

Rarity, who had noticed the increasing rate of tremble in the audience, cut in. "-- my own goods were affected, Flower Wishes," the designer calmly interjected, using the formal name as something which was assuredly not a direct means of attack, but if it just so happened to work out that way, good. "You might recall that I sell clothing. Dresses. Scarves. Jackets now and again, although not at this time of year. Even overlooking that I had not been to Sugarcube Corner before opening my shop --"

" -- yeast in the air! Open windows!"

" -- what is your proposal for clothing being able to contract an illness?"

Daisy needed a moment for that one. "You use cotton," the flower seller eventually said. "Linen. Organic fabrics. They came from things that were alive once, and if there was any bit, any tiniest bit imaginable inside the cloth which hadn't died yet, the yeast would have infected that."

Two of the audience ponies snorted with laughter. One more rolled her eyes and trotted away.

Which left the final blow to Spike. "And the jewels?"

The force of this blink ruined the suit's crown. "...jewels?"

"Gems," Spike said. "Rarity uses gems in a lot of her designs, including some of her summer pieces. Lighter ones, things which won't absorb too much Sun and heat up against the wearer's body." (On his left, Rarity beamed with the joy of a teacher who had found an attentive student.) "She had some on a few of the items she was selling today, and they changed. What part of a gem was ever alive?"

"I... I..."

Another pony left, openly giggling all the way down the street. The rest stayed around to watch the remainder of the play.

"...I don't know..." Daisy whispered, and her posture collapsed in defeat.

Twilight sighed. It hadn't been as enjoyable as it had appeared in the dreams which had so often played out within her nightscape. It hadn't been fun at all. "Daisy, I'm sorry..." and she was surprised to find it was true "...but there are times when you just panic too easily, and you set other ponies off. Sometimes there's an emergency -- but there's also times which aren't. And either way, if you go around freaking out the populace, you're not doing anypony any good."

Daisy forced her head up, just enough to barely meet Twilight's eyes: the movement put another pair of rips into the suit. "But if it's not a disease... what is it?"

"What Mr. Cake said," Twilight replied, her words carrying a very real degree of concern for the mare's feelings, one which brought equal surprise. "He said it in front of the entire bakery, and you didn't think about it because you were scared: that sort of thing happens and nopony's blaming you for it. It's not a disease... just a unicorn spell. Somepony -- a tourist, not a native -- is going around casting this as a series of pranks, Daisy. That's all. It's perfectly ordinary magic... okay, actually, it's new magic, a working I've never seen before and I really want to catch up with the caster so I can find out how it's being done --" pause. Priority sort. Resume. "-- oh, and we also have to stop her and get the effects reversed." Keeping her tones warm and caring, "But it's just a spell, Daisy... a normal working. I promise. I would know."

There were tears in the green eyes now. "...a... spell?"

Gently, "Yes."

And the earth pony was gone.

Her departing words hung around for a while, especially as they had been screamed with enough force to grant the echoes a good long life, bouncing off the shredded patches of Hoovmat Suit left behind in Daisy's sprinting wake.

"It's a spell! It's a horrible, horrible spell! Run for your lives, everypony! Somepony from out of town is casting spells on us so we'll look evil and the Guards will think we're going to -- Celestia and Luna save us! Mad unicorn! Mad unicorn!"

What remained of the audience slowly turned to look at Twilight.

"Is she always like that?" a visiting pegasus stallion inquired.

"Yes..." Twilight slowly sighed.

"I'm very sorry."

"So am I..."

The other ponies trotted away.

A black snout gently nuzzled her neck, the nuzzle meant for friends. "As am I, Twilight," Rarity said. "You tried... you truly did. But when somepony is determined to be afraid, there is very little which will stop them from finding an excuse for it -- especially when there are two others waiting to reinforce every invented chain of false reason."

"Is it... is it too much to hope that it'll be like the eclipse? They'll just lock themselves in together and wait it out?"

Neither Rarity nor Spike could answer. And so Twilight sighed again and resumed her slow trot, once again searching on feel for the unicorn they now had to locate all the faster.

"I feel stupid," Twilight softly said.

"You're not," Spike firmly replied.

"I feel stupid for even trying."

"And I?" Rarity said. "Feel proud. Because the failure was mutual, Twilight -- but so was the attempt..."

They moved in silence for a while, for no more words were currently necessary. Twilight knew Rarity was on her left and Spike strode along at her right.

And to make her briefly feel a little better, it was all she needed to know.

An Apple Of A Different Color

On an equally-dubious personal bright side, Twilight had found her own small blessing: the search for the prankster had made shopping with Rarity into something tolerable. For as much as the designer complained (generally in private, beyond the hearing of any prospective future clients) about how aggravating customers could be, how little they understood or wished to recognize the effort which went into her creations, the sheer ignorance trotted out on display... she completely failed to recognize that she, in many ways, was worse. Rarity could take forty minutes to pick out a single fabric sample. She would inquire as to point of origin, soil content for the cotton fields, expertise of the combers, and then ask for references, quickly followed by contact information which she would follow up on. When it came to dyes, she carried a folding color chart which had so many entries as to lose most pony eyes within the finest of gradients -- and that was before she unfurled it to full size, which worked out to be twice the length of her own body. If a dye was not precisely as described... well... there would be Words, and there would be many of them, to the points where the offending pony would often look as if she was drowning within the sheer deluge of objecting vocabulary.

Of course, that was just for items which affected Rarity's business. When it came to casual shopping, with things she had some intent to purchase... that was when the inspections took first place in the race to overwhelm Rarity's trembling victims. The slow rotation of any object, carefully peering for flaws while shopkeepers trembled and hoped for silence. A slight intake of breath would indicate the most minor of faults which in no way instantly disqualified the item from being taken home, but simply opened the door to negotiation. Should something be undeniably perfect -- it would be put aside, with another, similar piece being rotated by the soft blue field in the event that it would somehow turn out to be even more perfect. And if absolutely nothing caught her fancy, then there were still the other aspects of retail to consider. How was the store conducting its advertising? What did the display look like? Was that a new kind of promotional gimmick? Did the business contain anything in its practices which Rarity might adopt to serve with her own? Perhaps it was best to consult directly with the owner: just a moment, dears, she wouldn't be all that long, and 'all that long' usually worked out to 'rather'...

Under normal circumstances, going shopping with Rarity could be like delving into a used book sale with Twilight. The race between the unintentional awarding of the relevant degree and the formation of the mob always went down to the nose.

But this time, the designer simply peered into shop windows. If the arrangement of display pieces created blind spots, she would poke her head in, ascertain that none of their targets were present and nothing appeared to have been changed, then moved on. At one point, she absently purchased a spool of gold filigree and did so in less than a minute, passing her bits to a pony who truly wasn't sure of the customer's identity, and that was after the proprietor looked past the color. Rarity had a goal in mind, and very little would distract her from it -- although the instinct which almost had her launch into the first round of a-lady-does-not-use-this-word haggling came close.

They were currently closing in on the town square with fair speed: there had been no bursts from that direction, but Twilight felt she'd picked up traces from something which might have happened while they were in another section of Ponyville, too far away for immediate detection. The loss of casual traffic seemed to have leveled off for the moment: still emptier than it should have been, but with no additional drop in population visible. Twilight was hoping it meant Daisy had finally headed for shelter. They had wound up following portions of the earth pony's trail, and... well, it was easy to tell which streets she had fled down, apparently screaming all the way, for those were the places which held ponies who were peering with suspicion at the unicorn tourist traffic: 'from out of town' had apparently become part of the revised alarm cry.

They could hear activity just ahead: a number of ponies were still at the market, vendors and customers alike. One of those voices was a familiar one and while the words were too far away to make out through the babble of other sounds, they had a distinctly frustrated tone to them. No great surprise: Applejack dealt with shopper stupidity about as well as Rarity did, and with considerably less variety in her words. But there didn't seem to be any anger in them. Even so, it was enough to make the trio move a little faster.

So far, there were no changes visible through what was left of the flowing crowd.

"Twilight Sparkle, a word with you? Concerning a matter of color and hue?"

Audible, however...

Slowly, the group turned to face towards the angry voice.

Spike's palms slammed over his mouth. Rarity, lacking the necessary anatomy, clamped her field around her own jaw. Twilight simply took a breath and kept right on taking it because as long as she was inhaling, there was no chance of the air coming back out as a burst of laughter.

Every single stripe in Zecora's coat clashed with every other, something which technically should have been impossible: given a sufficient number of colors, two would have had to complement. Of course, that consideration would have come before spotting that this was the prank where the unicorn had decided to begin her experiments with plaid. And that was before getting to the mane. Things had been done to the mane. Most of them involved paisley.

The zebra stomped a frustrated hoof. "Yes, very funny, I am sure. And not the least bit immature."

The sounds emerging from Spike's covered mouth had a note of mirthful choking. Meanwhile, Twilight had reached the end of her lung capacity: the narrow rib cage was full to the point of aching, and she just barely managed to make the rushed breath form words. "Zecora, we're sorry, it's an instinctive reaction, we don't mean anything by it..."

Zecora sighed. "I am aware. My load to bear. And Rarity, I see you too have been struck, by mix of spell and accursed luck. No harm from you: just first reaction, an instinctive, comprehensible action. I take no insult, I feel no hate. I simply wish to end this fate."

Twilight quickly closed her eyes, examining the zebra's body on feel alone. The results were just about identical to Rarity's. "A few hours, Zecora... it'll wear off on its own."

"I had guessed you had no counter," Zecora grumbled. "After red-and-black did I encounter..." Rarity blushed, which wasn't particularly detectable. "I wished to shop in Ponyville without facing such ill will."

Spike had managed to work his way back to words. "Zecora -- did you offend anypony today? Any unicorns?"

Widened eyes (which were oddly still blue) and another angry hoof stomp. "I, you say, offend? Fences I did mend! Citizen I still may not be, but welcome to come and go, free! Nothing did I do today which somepony might take the wrong way, beyond simply being here, hoping to be treated as a peer --!"

"-- Zecora, it is not what you have every right to believe we are speaking of," Rarity interjected, her quickened words remaining calm. "As you can see, yours is not the first incident. As best we can track, it is the fourth. We are trying to locate the unicorn mare who has performed this working and make her reverse it. And so far, the only commonality we have for the prior three incidents is that they are things where a pony might have taken offense and used the spell as revenge. The cause could have been so petty as your accidentally bumping somepony, or purchasing the last summer cherry before they could reach it. If you know of anypony whom you might have irritated today, to even the most minor degree... We have four suspects and can describe them all to you. Should any one of them match..."

Zecora shook her head: the spell-tarnished earring shifted while the mane did its best to clash with the very air. "My every action, I do not track. And so it is motives which I lack." Sharply, "Other that than which came before, something I simply won't endure."

Twilight sighed. "Zecora..."

"It is simply a feeling, not towards you," Zecora quietly said. "A memory now... but a memory true. It is not possible to forget. But know I recognize your regret." She sadly looked at Spike. "And you know something of which I speak, when the fear of others reaches its peak."

Slowly, Spike nodded. "Zecora, we still have to try and figure out which pony it was. Will you let us describe them to you? If you remember any of them being around you before it happened..."

Zecora nodded back. They gave her the list.

"It is one of those four -- this you swear?"

Group agreement.

"In that case --" she angled her head towards the market "-- there is one right over there."

They blinked. They ran, moving around Zecora as fast as they were able, galloping past her quickly enough to lose her last words in the impact of hooves against ground, as Spike vaulted onto Twilight's back again in the name of saving precious seconds, racing through the sudden clear gap in the market's traffic, heading towards the pony Zecora had spotted with superior peripheral vision, galloping towards where a friend just might be in trouble...

There was a crowd around the stand. A big one. Dozens of ponies. The suspect was on the outer edge of it. And a familiar voice was coming from the center.

"Ah keep tellin' y'all: this ain't them! Y'can't do anythin' with 'em other than eat 'em! Ah never have enough! If'n Ah had that kinda numbers, Ah'd just make more of the stuff an' sell that! Y'gotta listen t' me! Back off, give me some space, y'don't know what you're doin'! Ah can't take yer bits, not for this!"

There was a little jump at the end of that last word, made in a desperate attempt to get some extra projection. It let Twilight spot the panicked face, and she was seen in return.

The single bound immediately turned into a series, and the brief pause at each peak gave Twilight a stuttering view of the near-winces, semi-twitches, and overall muscle tension which indicated the farmer had finally reached the point of asking for help.

"Twi... Twi, Ah hate t' ask, Ah... need t' clear some space... Ah can't..." Two extra jumps were needed to jar the next part loose. "...handle this... please..."

A friend was under attack and had asked for help. They were the only reasons Twilight needed.

She anchored the shield spell on top of the cart, let it flow just over the edge of the contours as a tight dome, finding just enough room to do so without having to shove any parts of pony bodies out of the way -- mostly because that was something Applejack was already doing as the working formed, making sure nopony got caught. And when Twilight had the edges on the ground, she gradually expanded the shield outwards into the aisle.

It wasn't easy. She could feel the pressure of ponies pushing against it, angry hooves impacting the borders. If the shield had already been fully formed, that level of attempted penetration could have been dealt with using very little effort, and for a long time. But to have it happen while she was still trying to get the working established, before it was stabilized and hardened... it was putting her corona at a full single, threatening to go double with even the smallest bit of extra exertion, and the outermost edges of her vision were starting to fade into white.

"Twilight!" Spike gasped. "Be careful! If any of them get knocked into your horn right now...!"

"I've got it, Spike, I've got it... I'm not pushing that hard, they're not going to come flying at me..."

Her little brother still jumped down and got in front of her, taking up a defensive position, just in case.

More yells. Shouts of aggravation. Twilight was waiting for more than that, waiting for magic. She expected to be hit by the spell at any moment, and disrupting one working while trying to complete her own would be difficult at best. Surely she was offending the target pony through this action and once she was spotted as being the caster, they would have their final confirmation...

But it didn't happen. The teenage unicorn mare was pushed back with the rest, looking confused. Not angry at all. Not even frustrated. And she was holding an apple within her field.

Zecora caught up.

"But it is not her, I must insist," the zebra repeated. "And thus you remove her from your list."

The bright red field.

The nature of the apple within almost dropped to second place.

Twilight completed the casting. The shield hardened. The crowd, which no longer had to contend with being pushed back, looked around until they found the cause. Angry mutters began, with none of them coming from the teen.

Rarity didn't let it get any further than that. "Bearer business!" she called out. "We are consulting with a fellow Bearer!" Much more softly, rapid-fire, "Twilight, I am truly sorry, I know you hate that, but we do not have time to talk our way through this right now..." Back to full volume. "Make a path, immediately! There is no crisis! There is nothing to be alarmed about! There is absolutely no need to flee to your homes! We simply must consult with our fellow Bearer for a few minutes, and then the shield will come down!"

"Yeah, right!" an angry pegasus mare screamed. "You just want to hog them all for yourself!"

"We won't let you!" chimed her stallion companion.

"Not when they're so rare!"

"Not when they never go on sale like this!"

A very large, completely unfamiliar dark green earth pony reared back, slammed his front hooves into the dirt, sending up a cloud of dust for body lengths around. "I'll outbid all of you! I don't care if she wants to take them back before they get away! I'll buy anything anypony's bought already! You can even keep the apples, you can do anything you like with them! Just let me at the seeds!" Huge hooves pounded on the shield, and it was a mark of the strength behind them that Twilight actually felt the impacts. "Let me in! I'll buy them all! You brought them, so that means you have to sell them, and I'll pay anything, anything, and if you don't let me in, I'm going to --"

There was a sound.

For Ponyville residents, it was a very familiar sound. It had a way of getting noticed. It cut through air and made more solid barriers collapse. It made pony ears perk as it dropped down through the skull deep into the brain, where it solidly landed on a button labeled I May Have Gone Slightly Too Far And I'm Really Sorry About That.

The very large earth pony slowly turned his head. It took very little time for his face to come into the even larger shadow cast by the stallion behind him. Because the sound was the exclusive property of the stallion who operated the Day And Night Labor: No Job Too Big Or Too Heavy tent a few spots away from Applejack's cart. And it said to all and sundry that Snowflake had just decided to take a personal interest.

Slowly, with great curiosity, "...yeah?"

The very large earth pony seemed to be somewhat smaller now.

The quartet watched. Everypony in the town square did.

The thing about Snowflake... was that he generally didn't use his strength. Not on other ponies. Anypony who truly knew him quickly became aware that the pegasus would do almost anything to avoid it. He hated hurting others, was incredibly careful in his attempts to make sure it never happened by accident, was as gentle with younglings and animal companions as any pony in the world, which was part of why Fluttershy trusted him first and best to be her substitute caretaker when missions came calling. He never started fights, hated confrontation, and frequently couldn't even bring himself to verbally counter taunts no matter how many lessons Rarity gave him, as defending himself seemed to occupy the permanent bottom position on his personal checklist -- at least until things got physical. Most of Ponyville was aware of all of it, and the crueler ones vocally walked all over him -- from a distance. Just in case.

But this was a tourist. And it was also Snowflake defending somepony else.

Those rules were different. Ponyville was aware of that too.

"...nothing."

"Yeah."

The suddenly very small earth pony retreated (and didn't stop until half a gallop beyond the northern bridge). Snowflake took a long, slow look at the rest of the crowd. Every last pony in it backed away from the shield, and six did so in such a way as to create an aisle.

The pegasus turned to the quartet, gave them a slight nod. They went down the aisle to the sound of absolute quiet, and Twilight opened a hole in the shield to let them in, making sure to seal it immediately.

Applejack managed a smile. It didn't last long.

"Gotta love your timin'," she sighed, keeping her volume low: the shield muffled sound, but didn't completely block it. "Gotta appreciate his too. If Ah had to put up with that for a minute longer... Nopony believed me. If it had been locals, Ah wouldn't have had this problem, but so many of them went home an' we got stuck with the tourists, everypony in the market did, then this happened..."

She sadly nodded to the display.

The usual assortment of colors were gone. No full palette of red with occasional touches of yellow and a few rare greens. Instead, there was simply a rainbow.

And that rainbow was on every single visible fruit at the cart.

(With the exceptions of the ones near Rarity, which had dimmed into more of a negative.)

Rarity took a deep breath. "They look like --"

Applejack sighed. "-- Zap Apples. An' we never sell 'em. Need every one we've got for the jelly. Can't afford t' let the seeds get loose or we won't have as much control over the market. Most ponies ain't never seen a Zap Apple, but they know it's got rainbow colors when it's ripe an' some of 'em know they change colors along the way. They know that... and it ain't enough to let 'em know when things ain't the way they should be. So when the glow hit, somepony decided it meant Ah'd either brought a bunch of 'em by mistake or that we were finally gonna get around t' carryin' the things at the cart. Said that out loud, that Ah had 'em. Lot of other ponies heard it, came over, saw the things... Didn't wanna sell under false pretenses. But Ah couldn't talk 'em out of buyin'. Couldn't make 'em leave. More Ah talked, the more ponies crowded in. It was like that for a while before y'all showed up, an' it just kept gettin' worse..." She looked at Rarity, and her eyes showed nothing but sympathy. "And now it's even worse than that, 'cause Ah know Ah wasn't the only one. Zecora, not dismissin' you, but y'weren't sellin' here today, so Ah've gotta check on mah fellow merchant first. Rarity, is it jus' you, or did they get your stock? An' will y'all be okay?"

"My stock, and permanent on that until countered," Rarity wearily replied. "Please believe me when I say that particular change will not be triggering a purchase frenzy any time soon. However, both of us will revert in time. Applejack, this happened at Sugarcube Corner as well, and Pinkie was able to give us a list of four suspects -- now down to three. Did you have any unicorn mares at your stand before this happened? Were any of them displaying a shimmer-white field?"

As usual, the head shake barely shifted the hat. "Sorry, Rarity... Ah was kind of on the busy side, an' Ah was distracted. Too many tourists, and y'know what tourists usually mean for me? Shoplifters. They leave their own town an' they think that means they can do whatever they want t' anypony at'tall in the new one. When it got crowded, Ah had thieves left, right, an' center. Even had a couple of kids tryin' t' stick their heads through gaps between legs an' snatch apples right quick before Ah noticed. Ah noticed, though. An' Ah stopped 'em, an' Ah told off the parents if they were there... y'had t' hear this one pony, kept sayin' her kid would never do any such thing while the filly's still got the apple in her mouth... But when Ah'm doing that, Ah ain't payin' much attention t' field colors an' all. Just tryin' t' keep mah stock from trottin' away." She peered outside the field, noted the presence of the still-waiting teenager. "They ain't all bad, though. That one's sure bein' patient."

Twilight groaned. "We've been working under the theory that this pony is pranking anypony who offends her, Applejack. We think she doesn't like having to wait. Even just getting stuck behind other ponies while you dealt with customers and -- the rest might have been enough to set her off."

A tiny nod accomplished by a frustrated half-growl. "Tourists."

Rarity pressed on. "Can we give you the list? I know you may feel as if none of them would have registered in your memory, but..."

"Ain't gonna work, Rarity. Ah ain't Pinkie. Don't have that kinda memory. Not sure Ah'd want it..."

Zecora took a half-step forward. "Applejack, please close your eyes. Let the vision be a surprise."

"Huh?" The farmer seemed to feel the syllable said it all.

"Without eyesight in the way, memory may save the day. Senses intrude and sometimes block: seek darkness, then turn back the clock."

Which got them an uncertain frown. "Ah trust you, Zecora... 'specially after what y'did for Apple Bloom... but that jus' sounds weird. You're sure 'bout this?"

Zecora simply nodded.

Applejack didn't even shrug. She simply closed her eyes and waited.

"Think back," Spike encouraged. "You saw the glow hit, right?"

"Uh-huh. Couldn't miss it. Went on every apple -- well, not every apple. Just the ones on top an' a little below -- anythin' visible when it happened. Had a few seconds t' check before it all went bad."

Differentiation, Twilight thought, but didn't say: there was no time for that particular lecture. "Was there any horn showing that color of corona?"

A slow head shake, eyes still closed. "No... hey, this is weird, it's easier. Ah can picture so many of the ponies who were here... Maybe Ah was lookin' in the wrong direction. Saw the glow but not the source. Didn't last long... maybe four, five heartbeats. Covered the place fast. Ah... was startin' to look for the source. Don't want magic messin' with mah stock, but that wasn't mah first thought. Kinda hopin' for a big sale. Somepony about t' take it all, y'know? Canterlot restaurant with an' apple pie night comin' up, that happened once before..." A misty smile spread across her face. "Now there was a tourist Ah'd like t' see again..."

The group was aware that Applejack could easily spend a happy hour reliving Glories Of Sales Past, and Spike hurried to get her back on track. "These are the three ponies we're still looking for, Applejack." He described them. "Was one in the crowd?"

"Naw..."

Faces fell.

"Two."

Heads jerked up.

Applejack slowly nodded. "The light brown one an' the kinda curdled cream. Matter of fact, that last one, Ah got into a fight with."

Eyes widened.

"Y'had to hear her. One of the most annoyin', obstinate, deliberately ignorant --"

"-- Applejack, how far in the past? We may have the perpetrator at last!" Zecora cut in.

The farmer frowned. "Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes? Hard t' keep track... time gets weird when Ah've got a lot of ponies around who won't listen t' me..."

"Did you see where she went? Which way?" Spike insisted.

"West, more or less. But that ain't necessarily --"

"-- then we've got to go!" Twilight decided. The checklist was down to a mere pair of empty boxes, they weren't that far behind, they had a direction... There was a chance, and they couldn't risk staying much longer. "Zecora, do you want to come?"

A single angry nod. "Reversal may come on its own, but I'd like to make my feelings known. Some time have I, but not too much... a potion is brewing, and must stir such. An hour or two, but no more. Until then..." her teeth briefly went into a snarl "...we go to war."

More than good enough. "Applejack, I know you can't join us right now... can you handle the stand?"

The farmer glanced outside the shield again, met Snowflake's red eyes. The pegasus silently nodded. "With the extra eyes an' hooves, yeah. Maybe he can help me get through to 'em. Y'can drop the shield when y'go, Twi... we'll handle it from here. But if you're still lookin' when Ah close, come back an' get me. Ah want a piece of this too."

They agreed, and the quartet headed out. Behind them, Applejack's renewed sales cry rang out across the square.

"Now listen up, everypony! These are not Zap Apples! Just good old high-quality Sweet Apple Acres product! Listen t' me! Hear the words Ah'm sayin'! Y'can't make the jelly with 'em! Can't plant the seeds an' get anythin' other than a normal apple tree! Can't start your own business! Ah did not mess up an' bring some of the rarest, most magical apples in Equestria with me t' market by accident! Gotta listen t' me! Don't wanna sell y'stuff when y'ain't gettin' what y'think you are! Again, Ah ain't sellin' Zap Apples today! No way, no how, an' Ah swear by Celestia's mane, Luna's shoes, Ah'll even throw in Cadance's tail 'cause Ah love mah reputation too much t' sully it like that, ever... No Zap Apples! None at'tall! Do y'hear me? Do y'understand?"

There was a moment of total silence.

Twilight managed a wan smile. "Well, that should get through."

Rarity sighed. "Twilight... think about Daisy for a very brief moment."

Twilight did. "...I don't get it."

"These are tourists, with no more experience of Applejack than they have of Snowflake. Ultimately, ponies believe what they wish, often in spite of all declarations to the contrary. And have you ever heard the saying 'the mare doth protest too much'...?"

There was another short-lived moment of silence, and the cause of death was belief.

From behind them, with full insistence unmoderated by the somewhat more peaceful volume, because surely a simple expressed statement wouldn't get the overseeing pegasus upset:

"Yeah, that's what you say!"

"You just don't want to admit you messed up!"

"Ten apples! Here's the bits! Come on, right in my saddlebags!"

"Give me forty!"

"Give me the whole cart! Including those apples towards the bottom, because they'll be changing next! Nopony else can buy anything now! I called it! Just take all my money! And hold everything until I pull my wagon up!"

The hunting group wearily left the square. Behind them, Snowflake slowly shook his head and trotted closer, just in case a freshly-besieged Applejack, who didn't know which pile of bits to deal with first, needed help with packing the wagon.

ChromaTricks

There were some mysteries of Ponyville which Twilight had yet to solve or even truly investigate, and more than a few of them involved the thought processes of others, especially as they related to events which she hadn't been present to experience. For example, somepony had decided that hiring a pegasus, one whose arguable secondary talent was sleeping in, to make sure the scheduled weather happened exactly on time -- had been a good idea. Something had inspired the town's previous librarian to come up with the tree's original shelving system, and Twilight was fairly certain it had been a concussion. And then there was the store they were about to trot past, a business she'd never been able to reconcile no matter how many orders she was essentially forced to place from it just to save on shipping time. It was unexpected, unreasonable, unbalanced, and irrational (the loss of the 'un' streak momentarily irritated her, although nowhere near as much as the shop), at least on those days when it wasn't just plain stupid. If Twilight was forced to think about it at all beyond the time required to reluctantly fill out the next order form, she generally thought of it as The Retail Which Should Not Be, and tried not to go beyond that: the headache seldom needed more than a few seconds to set in. If she wasn't making a purchase there (generally from a reasonable, sanity-maintaining distance via claw-remove), she did her best to ignore the thing. It was just easier that way.

Which was why her first reaction upon feeling the burst of magic from that direction was to decide the entire day had just gotten that much worse.

"Did you --?" Rarity immediately inquired.

Twilight sighed. "Yes..."

"That was fresh! She may still be inside! Hurry, Twilight, this could be our chance to catch her! Oh, there will be vengeance!"

"But... but that means she's in -- there."

"Twilight, I understand your issues, truly I do, but we do not have time. If you can marshal yourself enough to withstand things for a short duration...?"

Spike, who knew what was wrong, gently rubbed Twilight's flank. "It's just for a few minutes."

"Maybe... if I just stayed outside and waited to intercept her?" Twilight hopefully offered. "In case she runs?"

Zecora, who lacked their feel, frowned. "Twilight, as best that I can tell, the two of you have sensed a spell?" The librarian nodded. "Not the reaction I expected: not thrilled or angry, but dejected..."

Another sigh -- but she was beginning to trot faster, steadily accelerating into a gallop, in no small part because the best way to get into the place was to speed through the door before her mind could stop her. "It's just -- that place, Zecora. Of all the stores she could have gone to -- well, at least she finally found something which was actually irritating..."

"But you shop there: I know you do," the confused zebra noted as she increased her own pace to match. "Their scattered boxes provide the clue. Bits you simply continue to spend, for a store which does -- offend?"

Faster now, speech and speed, every aspect of her being trying to get it over with. "It doesn't make any sense. And I've asked him about it, and all he does is ignore me and then try to raise the prices when he thinks I'm not looking. And he doesn't ever understand when I don't want to order the other -- things... I mean, honestly, how many does he think any one pony needs? How quickly are they supposed to wear out, every two moons? Every single time I send him an order, he puts a note in my box telling me how much I didn't save by ordering together, and it's like I keep doing everything wrong when he's the one who doesn't make any sense -- !"

Rarity went through the doorway first, and the unwillingness to leave her friend facing unknown magic alone gave Twilight the final tenth-bit of strength she needed to go under the sign, the idiotic sign, through the still-open door and --

-- she normally tried not to look around too much on the rare occasions when she was forced to visit the place, generally because the proprietor had messed up her order and Spike was on one of his You Have To Confront Your Own Issues gallops again. Looking around too much hurt her brain. But now she had to, and her gaze quickly moved over that which she personally used and all the pieces which made no sense until she located --

-- there. One unicorn mare, the only mare in the shop, with coat the color of curdled cream and a light grey mane styled into elaborate ringlets which fell to the left side of her neck. Trotting towards them, snout raised as her nostrils expelled a disdainful sniff, almost completely ignoring the store's owner.

"Are you sure there isn't anything I can help you with today?" the light brown earth pony stallion inquired. "Because I think that if you just checked out that display on your right, immediately under the Sale sign, you'll spot something nopony should ever be without!"

"Your so-called stock is inadequate," the mare sniffed. "I made the trip to this -- I suppose 'settled zone' will have to suffice for a term, simply from lack of anything lesser -- in search of antiques to resell, because a 'town' like this would never be able to afford to kick anything away. Your furniture is modern. I inspected every piece. I even went through the most dust-covered ones at the back in the hopes that their time of not selling might have been measured in centuries, and came up with a mere ten years, at least after rounding up. And as for the rest of your wares..."

All of them should have been charging forward. But instead, the four automatically, instinctively waited through the brief near-silence: there was a faint squeaking sound in the distance which wasn't respecting the near-mandatory pause.

"...quills? You think you can sell quills in the same shop with -- with..."

"You saw the sign!" Davenport instinctively beamed. "Everypony comes in when they see the sign!"

"I thought it was a joke!"

"I know! That's why they come in!"

Which was when Rarity took that last crucial step forward. "Pardon," the designer interrupted with the most open, venomous false apologies any of them had ever heard.

The mare, who had ignored their entrance as a natural part of ignoring everything else, stared.

"And you are?" she sniffed.

Rarity's left forehoof scraped at the carpeted floor. "We have met, actually. Rather recently. Perhaps if you made an effort to look past my current hues...?"

Twilight and Zecora remained silent as the mare squinted, which let the squeaking try to intrude again. "Oh," she sniffed. "The owner of the remaindered dress shop."

This time, the hoof stomped, and Rarity's voice dropped into a place which shadowed the store more than her altered coat ever could. "Remaindered."

"And currently experimenting with fur and mane dye in the same stupid fashion in which you previously experimented with fabrics," she continued, completely ignoring all contradiction with her own previous sentence. "In both cases, obviously and totally unaware of when a fad has completed its lifespan. I still have no interest in your wares, especially from a mare who cannot be bothered to sell me anything and simply flees from her own establishment for no apparent reason. Fortunately -- or non -- there seems to be nothing in this 'town' worthy of my bits anyway. Now, if you will step aside..."

"Remaindered?" (Spike's left claw instinctively grabbed for Rarity's tail, intertwined digits through red and black stripes.) "Remaindered? If it is remains you wish to discuss, then we are about to enter a rather brief argument, and if you do not undo your working immediately, you will have the opportunity to regard your own remains as much as you like --!" She began to advance, horn lowering, nostrils flaring --

"Rarity!"

Who glanced back at the little dragon and found his walking claws desperately trying to find a helpful carpet tangle to hook into. "This will only take a moment, Spike. Davenport, I will be purchasing several of your quills. After the fact. Simply count how many are protruding from her body and then charge me accordingly."

"Are you threatening me?" the astounded mare exclaimed. "Is this some kind of threat?"

"I?" Rarity falsely laughed. "Why, of course not! I have never leveled a threat against anypony."

Which produced a slightly disbelieving variety of sniff. "Really."

"Yes," Rarity told her with that same false politeness. "Threats only occur when one potentially does not intend to follow through." And her horn ignited, soft blue dipped into the open boxes of sample quills, a hundred miniature glowing feathered spears began to rise into an attack position --

-- Spike's left claw rapped against her horn. Hard.

The partial corona winked out, and one hundred quills fell to the floor.

Angry red eyes immediately sought out the next target. "Really! Purposeful backlash when I am merely trying to complete our mission? Very well: I believe I am still capable of a charge!"

"Rarity, we don't even know if it's her!"

"She called my creations 'remaindered'! I no longer care!"

The mare was staring at her.

"Well!" she sniffed. "I think we've seen more than enough of the ponies in this 'town'! Threats of violence simply because somepony has too much taste to purchase inferior goods? I would go to the police, if they weren't assuredly as stupid and corrupt as everypony else here. Instead, I believe we'll just head for the train!"

She began to trot forward, as Spike desperately tried to find a new grip, while Twilight wondered if she had to seize Rarity within her own field, Zecora visibly searched for something she could do, and Davenport...

...well, Davenport had something of a one-track mind. Or rather, two, running in rather close and completely illogical parallel.

"Rarity," the stallion irritably interjected, "this is my customer. From the sound of things, she was already in your shop. I'm sorry she didn't buy anything from you, but she's in my store now, and to me, she still looks like the kind of mare who has the taste to purchase a sofa. Along with a few quills, especially since I'm sure she's seen my sign concerning the savings she'll get when she bundles, along with the additional discount for subscribing to my new club!"

Which momentarily froze everypony.

"Club," Twilight said, and immediately wished she hadn't.

"Club," Davenport proudly chorused. "Once a moon, every moon for a year, you receive a shipment containing my personal selection of the ideal pieces to suit that moon's styles! For just a small subscription fee, to cover the cost of my picking something out for you! Plus shipping. And the cost of all the quills, of course. And all the sofas."

"All the sofas," Twilight repeated, and wondered why she'd ever learned to talk in the first place.

"Of course," a confused Davenport eventually responded after an appropriate number of background squeaks. "Why would anypony start a mere Quill Of The Moon club? Now, of course, you'll have to cover shipping costs for sending each previous sofa back. Unless you want to keep them. Because I've seen the tree, Ms. Sparkle, and it's not as if you couldn't use at least six more sofas. Would you like to look at my signup brochure?"

The mare looked at Davenport. Fully noticed Twilight for the first time, then visibly dismissed her. Ignored a near-steaming Rarity, who was desperately trying to free herself from Spike's grip in a way which didn't involve kicks.

"You're all insane," she concluded. "Now, where did the latest idiot proprietor put...?"

Her horn ignited. The glow dipped down behind Davenport's main (and slightly dusty) sales counter, recovered a pair of moderately hideous saddlebags.

"Because as if being treated as a potential shoplifter wasn't bad enough," she sniffed. "What did you expect me to do, hide a sofa inside them?"

And they stared as the navy blue glow descended towards her back.

"Her field," Rarity whispered towards Twilight. "Would that magic operate on her own --"

No. Twilight knew that instinctively, on the level of her mark. Solids and liquids, possibly some of the denser gases -- but not energy. That was another effort entirely, the one required to change a signature, and Twilight knew exactly how hard that was. And besides... "It's the wrong feel, Rarity," Twilight miserably whispered back. "It's not her."

Dejected and rapidly dropping towards despondent. "But there's nopony else it could --"

"-- oh, I see." And Zecora smiled.

It got the mare's attention. And then kept it. "What are you supposed to be? Did a dye wagon explode? Oh -- I see now! Well, in your case, it may actually represent an improvement..."

Zecora ignored it. Calmly, "You said 'we'."

The rest of the group blinked. Davenport simply said "Ten percent off your first shipment when you subscribe for three years or more!"

"Is that supposed to be speech?" the mare sniffed. "Something to impress the ignorant, with your so-called exotic accent?"

Rarity's hooves paused in their carpet trench creation. "She did. She said 'we'll just head for the train'..."

Zecora nodded. "Her words may be those of a phony: her plural shows another pony. Attitude she has aplenty, airs of a false cognoscenti..."

"And rhyming," the mare hurried on, starting to move forward again. "What disease is that a symptom of? Thankfully, there probably isn't any chance it could spread --"

"-- your desperation, it is peeking," Zecora smiled. "And those couch springs -- they are squeaking..."

Which finally got Davenport to focus on something else.

"Oh, no..." he groaned. "I already asked you not to do that!" And he spun, began trotting towards the back of the store.

The mare, who had been on the verge of her exit, automatically oriented on the next offense, instinctively following. "How dare you! One false accusation was enough to convince me not to buy here, just like all the others in this 'town', but now you're accusing twice!"

Which got him to turn. "I saw her doing it!"

"So you say. I didn't see a thing."

"You were right there! Poking the cushions with your hooves!"

Naturally, that triggered a sniff. "If that's what you're going to claim happened..."

Davenport briefly stared at her, then went back to both looking and moving forward. The group hurried to follow, Zecora dropping back somewhat. And when they reached the back of the store...

"Is it over?" a high-pitched pipping voice demanded. "I'm bored!"

There was a unicorn filly bouncing on one of the couches. A very small filly, one who could have easily been mistaken for a kindergartener in both size and vocal pitch: at best, she was two-thirds of Apple Bloom's height, easy to lose in a crowd -- or crush of bakery customers. But there was a single aspect of false maturity visible on iridescent pearl flanks: a manifested mark, which was only intermittently hidden by bouncing black tail hairs. One which showed a palette, pools of color frozen in slow spread across the wood...

The group saw her. And then they saw the couch on her immediate right.

Davenport, through the coincidence which temporarily saved his sanity, hadn't yet. "I asked you not to do that!" he told the filly. "Yes, they're ideal for bouncing, in fact I have some models which are perfect for nothing but if you don't intend to ever truly rest on them and just want a toy -- they make excellent toys, although they work best when matched with the appropriate quill -- but I want to ship my goods new and so I do have to ask that you hop down, you can give those cushions the real workout after your mother signs for the shipment --"

"-- I'm not doing anything," the filly said.

And right on the hoof-heels of that, "How dare you berate my daughter! She's not harming your so-called goods in any way! She's simply -- resting!"

"She's bouncing!"

"No, she isn't," the mother said as her filly bounced.

"Yes, she is!" declared an increasingly frazzled Davenport. "Just like she was bouncing on that one before!"

He looked to the right.

His back legs gave out, and his tail slammed into the carpet.

"My... my couch," he whispered. "What have you done to my couch...?"

"I have not done anything to your supposed couch," the mare sniffed. "Come, Spectra. We are leaving."

"About time!" the filly sniffed, and bounced down. "This place is boring -- who are you?"

She looked the rest of the way up, and her eyes dismissed Twilight as thoroughly as her voice had.

Twilight took a slow breath, wondered just how long Spike could truly hold Rarity back, or if he would simply decide an "accidental" slip was worth the private thanks he would undoubtedly receive later... "Undo it."

"You're stupid," the filly told her. "You look stupid. And part of your mane is gone. That's stupid too. Just like you."

"Are you insulting my daughter?" the mare demanded, completely ignoring everything which had actually been said. "What kind of mare has the nerve to confront an innocent filly..."

Another breath. It didn't seem to be doing much. "Your working," Twilight slowly said. "Undo it. On the couch. On my friends. On the Boutique. Or you're not going anywhere, you or your mother."

"Are you a cop?" the filly quickly said.

"No."

"Then you can't stop me. Because I didn't do anything."

"That's right!" the mare insisted. "She's innocent! She's always innocent, and I don't care what you might say! It's hearsay! At best!"

"And I'm a filly," the very obvious filly arrogantly smiled. "So you can't touch me, or yell at me, or... anything! Because I'm a filly. And my mom wants to leave this boring place already, in this stupid town..." She began to move past Twilight -- and halfway through, turned just enough to let the smirk show.

"You've been using your magic all over town!" Twilight protested. "You changed the colors of my friends, of their goods, of who knows how many things!"

"I don't have any magic," the child said. "I'm just a filly."

"That's right!" the mare immediately added. "She's too young! You're accusing my baby of -- I don't even know what you're accusing her of!"

"It's you," Twilight helplessly insisted. "It -- it has to be you! Everything fits! There's nopony else it could be!"

"You can't prove --" the filly began -- and was cut off.

"Catch," Zecora said, and kicked the freshly-gathered box of quills.

It wasn't aimed at the filly's head -- something which only became visible on second glance, after everypony had a split-second to do more than react. Anypony truly looking at the angle would see it was rapidly heading up, and would have gone well over the little horn. But in that moment where there was no time to think, all the filly saw was something coming at her, and --

-- the box had been stopped. Held motionless within a shimmer-white field.

Zecora smiled. "'natch."

The mare stared. Galloped two steps forward, got the nape of the filly's neck between her teeth, scooped her daughter up and began to gallop for the door --

-- Twilight's field lanced forward, slammed and locked the only exit.

The mare froze, almost in mid-step, and put her daughter down again before turning to face them.

"You're holding us against our will," she said. "I will go to the police. I'm going to press charges."

"She's quite the prodigy, isn't she?" Twilight calmly said, trotting forward a little. "An early mark, early workings, and a new spell. I'd be proud if she was my daughter, at least when it came to her magic. Very few unicorns find themselves that young. But she's still a unicorn. She still has a signature, and now I've felt it. I can match it to every working she's done around town. I have something I can go to the police with, and press vandalism charges. Multiple ones."

And the mare said "So?"

Twilight blinked.

"...so?"

"She's a juvenile. All I have to do is contact my lawyer in Canterlot and let him know my daughter's being held on false charges. Have him stall proceedings for a while, until any signature would fade..." And the smirk was exactly the same on mother as daughter.

Which was when Rarity stepped forward.

"Antiques, you said?" the designer inquired.

"Not that it's any of your business, and certainly not what you were selling, although I suppose that with the lack of quality on your goods, they'll be in your supposed shop long enough to qualify --"

"-- you know," Rarity interrupted, "there are certain pieces where the only difference between the modern and the precious -- can be a certain shift in color? At least on the surface. But if a foolish buyer did not look beyond that, or was refused true inspection until after the purchase, which is perhaps done through a catalog..."

The mare -- paled. Rarity simply took another step.

"You know about her spell," Rarity stated. "She's done this before. On your behalf, perhaps? But today, she was bored. Or irritated. You passed by the library, did you not?"

And the filly sneered. "We were waiting outside for a whole five minutes! And we just wanted some of your stupid --" stopped.

"Books," Twilight softly said. "There are editions where the only difference between the rare and the common is the color of the cover. At least until you see the interior and check the printing. But all you could do with a Canterlot residency is ask for them through the library exchange program, and then I'd have information on the borrower. You'd have to --" the edges of her vision seemed to be fading out "-- the only way you could do it would be through --" the world was shifting towards white "-- you would have to steal --"

And then her brother was on her back, his hands wrapping around her horn at the same instant Rarity and Zecora's teeth mutually clenched on her tail, pulling her down in mid-leap.

"-- let go of me!"

"She's a kid, Twilight!" Spike gasped, the only one who could still talk without risk. "You can't go after a kid!"

"Watch me!"

"Twilight, we need her, we have to get her to reverse this, at least on Rarity's dresses: it's too late for the apples and maybe the bakery, but if we don't get the Boutique restored...!"

Weakly, towards the back of the store, "My sofa..."

The filly was visibly scared, pulled back with corona ignited -- but in her fear, she remained defiant. "You really like books, don't you! I guess you're the nerd Element!"

Red eyes blinked. "You -- know who we are?"

"We know the supposed Elements live in Ponyville," the mare sniffed. "And I heard one of them ran the library, probably as some form of punishment. But as for the four of you being part of the set -- a dragon and a zebra, a pet and a --"

Davenport's stunned interruption might have saved lives. "They... the two ponies, they are... but my sofa, why isn't anypony doing anything about --"

"-- really? This is what gets to hold an Element?" A sniff. "Well, it looks like Murdocks was even more right than usual! Now. There is no record of my ever having previously sold antiques --"

"-- start-up business, is it?" Rarity calmly broke in.

"-- and should you be so foolish as to try and press charges, not only will my lawyer immediately intervene, but the nearest juvenile court is in Canterlot. So any attempt to put my innocent filly on trial will guarantee our ability to leave town. Which we are about to do anyway, and we will treat any attempt to stop us as assault and press charges against you accordingly. Just be thankful I'm in a hurry to bid this 'town' farewell, or I would have the zebra in prison for attacking my daughter. Which I'm still thinking about. Come, Spectra. That one will release her field: I guarantee it. Because we are leaving."

Mother and daughter resumed their trot, with deliberately decreased speed. It would take long minutes for them to reach the door, and Twilight felt the weight of failure pressing on every second.

Rarity sighed.

"Well, that's it," she quietly said. "Two Elements, one failure."

Spike slowly made his way off Twilight's back, shyly approached the black flank. "Rarity, Twilight will find the counter, you know she will..."

"After experimentation. And what that in itself might do to my stock... I am sorry, Twilight, I truly am, but there are times when your quest for knowledge becomes somewhat... explosive." Which produced nothing more than a single depressed nod. "You, the Element of Magic, and myself as Honesty -- beaten by a filly."

Twilight blinked.

"Rarity?"

One red eye winked.

"Truly, I would pay for my stock to be restored. If, by some spectacular coincidence, a young prodigy capable of such a feat just happened to come along. I would simply be grateful for a chance to sell again, and that I had not lost more time to recreating the lot. I would never consider pressing charges, and would in fact forget the incident entirely, as long as the prodigy and her manager did the work in peace and let me be thereafter. Oh, I would pay so much for that..."

Eight hooves paused in their smug departure.

"But what would I possibly have to offer, for one seeking antiques?"

Twilight waited, trying to keep her face straight.

"Twilight... do you recall that I have a silver bit?"

Eight hooves turned.

"Of course, Rarity," Twilight replied. "We all have one. Luna personally presented them to us after that one Nightmare Night. She said it was the smallest possible token she could give us to show her gratitude, and -- it was something to carry as a reminder of her greater gratitude." Her own was kept in the vault, right next to the Elements: Spike's was hidden somewhere, and by 'somewhere,' she suspected 'within his basket.'

Rarity nodded. "From the days when the coin was struck for each ruler. A first pressing. Incredibly rare. And of course, a prodigy could potentially change the color of gold to that of silver -- but could not alter the embossing of the design, and certainly not the density of the metal. There is very little hope for any way in which one might fake the age. And as tokens go... incredibly valuable. But I have never thought to sell it. And yet, if it would purchase the restoration of my stock..."

"A silver bit..." It had come from the mare.

Rarity smiled. And then turned around.

"Yes."

"A first pressing, you said?"

"Given to me by the Princess herself. I rather trust the source when it comes to the authenticity."

"Do the borders actually say --"

"-- 'Good For Nearly All Princess Labor Public And Private'. Yes. And I understand that after the incident with the farmer last moon, there are almost none left. His were ultimately taken as payment by the thrones, in order to keep that old motto from being used a second time in the modern day. Yes, I am aware a few collectors retain a scant coin here and there, but between myself and my friends, to have seven... well, undoubtedly that is now a rather significant percentage of what remains in the possession of the public."

"And you... would give that up? For the restoration of your stock? With no police involved, no pressing of charges -- nothing?"

"In a heartbeat. The incident -- in fact, all of the incidents -- all actions and words alike -- shall be entirely and permanently forgotten by myself and my friends, with the mysterious unicorn who committed the act -- which your prodigy fixed for me -- never to be found, something I will personally guarantee..."

"And that's your word."

"What else would it be?"

The mare smiled.

"As it coincidentally happens," she declared, "my daughter is something of a prodigy..."

They were back at the Boutique, and shimmer-white was flowing across Rarity's creations -- but Twilight really wasn't paying attention to the sight. She was trying to focus all her attention on feel again, as there was a chance that being in the presence of the reversal would give her some insight into the actual working.

Speech, however, had a way of intruding.

"I fail to see the purpose behind the original alteration of my stock," Rarity calmly said as she watched the restoration: it was slower work than the near-instant change had been. "The library, yes. I imagine a little fading of hue does much to suggest proper age, and perhaps some editions have different shades for their covers and spines. But my stock..."

"You don't have any kid sizes!" Spectra declared. "And the play sewing tables are boring! Mom was just gonna hang around forever, shopping for herself..."

"Ah. Boredom likely explains the bakery as well. And the apples?"

"That dumb earth pony didn't have any right to try and take it back!"

"After you took it without paying." For it had been the mother whom Applejack had fought with, while the daughter still had the apple in her mouth.

With the perfect reasoning of the highly offended, "It's just a stupid apple!"

"And Zecora?"

"Who?"

Calmly, "You met her. You restored her coat and mane before she went home." There had been no apples left to fix, and they'd passed a stunned-looking Applejack as she slowly towed her bit-laden cart towards the Acres. Davenport's goods had been the work of a moment, but Sugarcube Corner had been a loss: Mr. Cake had sold what he could and kicked the rest into the trash, for his goods had a typical lifespan of a mere day, and he had seen no point in holding onto anything for too long. In the end, all he'd been able to do was nod with tightly-controlled false politeness and hold most of the tooth grinding back until they were out of hearing.

"Oh. Her. We never expected to see one of those in Ponyville! It's bad enough having them at their Canterlot embassy, and besides, my mommy says zebras shouldn't even be allowed!"

Not without curiosity, "Allowed to what?"

"Anything! And did you see that one stupid slee --" The last of the glow faded. "-- there! That's everything restored!" She glanced backwards, beaming. "It's a really great spell, isn't it? Some ponies might think that real color changes is just the most minor working imaginable, but I've been thinking about what it could really do..."

Rarity slowly looked around the Boutique. "Yes -- that is everything. You do most excellent work, Spectra, and I thank you for your efforts on my behalf -- or will as soon as you do one last thing?" A black hoof gestured inwards.

"Oh, right!" Shimmer-white coated Rarity's body and when it faded, left the true white behind. "All done!" And Spike's scales flattened from sheer relief.

The mare, who had finally named herself as Patina, smiled at her prodigy. "Beautiful work, Spectra! You know... there might just be a market in this..."

"Somepony unknown vandalizes, and then you coincidentally appear to restore?" Rarity guessed. "Yes, I imagine there could be -- but in Canterlot, with so many unicorns who could learn the feel of her signature..."

Patina considered that, then nodded. "Not in Canterlot, then. So, you're sure that everything is back to the way it was?"

"Yes," Rarity smiled, examining her white hooves. "Quite expertly, too."

"Good. Then I'll take my silver bit now, please."

Rarity nodded, trotted over to a portion of wall, and coated it with soft blue glow. A number of security spells were temporarily suspended, including the illusion which made that section look like a normal portion of wall in the first place. Dials were rotated, signatures were read by internal devices, and eventually, tumblers opened. The energy rummaged around for a moment, and then Rarity gradually trotted back, a small field bubble trailing just behind her tail.

"So," she said. "Here it is." The bubble was moved to the front. "You can see its authenticity, I trust?"

Patina's eyes were slowly moving over the embossing. "It's real. I knew it was, because you said so. But to actually see one -- especially after what happened with the farmer..."

Another nod. "A true antique, and one of recently -- and greatly -- increased scarcity."

"That justifies the trip into your 'town' all by itself," Patina exhaled. "And then some. Even without trying to personally use the borders. All right. Let's make the exchange. Just recede your field from the edge, let me get a grip, and then you'll never see us again."

A third head movement of total agreement. "Are you ready?"

"Ready."

The soft blue bubble shot backwards, and the coin audibly rattled against the bottom of the safe before the door slammed, with grey steel immediately replaced by ordinary wall.

"Get out of my shop," Rarity said. And smiled.

Mother and daughter stared at her.

"You -- you... you can't do that!"

"I just did," Rarity calmly stated. "Why are you still here?"

"But -- you're Honesty! You said you would give us the bit! You can't lie about that! You made the promise, and --"

"-- actually," Rarity smiled, "I am Generosity. And so I am capable of -- and, incidentally, somewhat adept at -- lying. Additionally, your lack of education? Is not my fault. Did you need help in finding the door?"

Patina's face, which had been oddly blank for a moment, briefly surged into an expression of cunning. "Generosity? But -- that means you promised to give us something! So you have to! You have to give me anything I ask for, or you can't be --"

A soft blue field clamped down around the mare's jaw.

"Yes, that would be one interpretation," Rarity peacefully said. "A common one. Just about the most frequent error anypony makes. So again -- get out of my shop."

She released her field. The mare took a deep breath.

"Spectra -- put it back! Make it worse! Everything and everypony, as far as you can reach! Ruin everything"

The filly's horn ignited, the corona going from partial to full in a heartbeat, quickly surging into a double --

-- and nothing happened.

There was no glow on dresses, ponies, scales, or walls. There was just a double corona around a small horn, straining for something which could not be achieved. Because on the other side of the room, a purple horn was surrounded by a gentle pinkish light.

"You're... above average," Twilight calmly said. "For field strength, I mean. Decently so. You might have a shot at the Gifted School if it wasn't for absolutely everything else about you. And your color change spell is complicated. When it's already in place... it would have taken some time for me to learn how to undo it, and probably a lot of experimentation. But right now, you're just trying to project energy. Raw thaums. A completed spell has to be countered -- but when you're just trying to cast, I can block you, thaum for thaum, and have a lot of power left in reserve. I can keep blocking you all the way to the train. Rarity isn't Honesty -- but I am Magic, Spectra." She didn't see it as bragging, and no aspect of boast was in her tone. It was simply a statement. "I know your signature. I know your workings. I know you. And you're never coming back. So as my friend was saying -- did you need help finding the door?"

The shimmer-white corona faded, stage by stage, and the little horn went dark.

"You're liars," the angry filly declared. "Liars!"

"Con artists," Rarity said, "have a strange objection to being conned. Behind you and slightly to your right."

Mother and daughter looked at each other. Slowly turned, began to shuffle towards the door...

...Spectra glanced back.

"You like books," she told Twilight.

Purple eyes narrowed.

"When school starts again... my class has a field trip in the first moon. To the Canterlot Archives. I thought it was going to be really boring. All that black text on white pages..."

She smiled.

And then she was surrounded by the pinkish field, jerked into the air, and she wasn't smiling at all. She was completely silent, frozen in horror and fear, with all the screams belonging to her mother, with the gasps as joint custody of Rarity and Spike.

"Oh, that was a mistake..." Twilight peacefully said, and her eyes went white as her horn's corona blazed, surged to a double, the glow of her field intensified --

-- and then Spectra was back on the Boutique's floor, completely unharmed. Twilight's eyes were normal again, and her horn was back to a partial corona. The only new thing was a tiny bubble of field floating on her immediate left.

"I just sampled your signature," Twilight calmly explained. "It's a new working, something I've been researching to help me track thieves. Once I have it sampled, I can set a device to search for it. As many devices as I like: they're very inexpensive to make. Ship them out all over Equestria. Wherever you go, Spectra, for the rest of your life, every shop, every government building, starting with the Archives... there just might be a device hidden. Waiting for you. And if you're stupid enough to use your unique spell, something no other unicorn could possibly be working, they'll let their owners know. How much coincidence do you two think you and your lawyer can explain away, especially after I alert law enforcement about this? Or maybe -- even go higher than that..."

The filly was trembling. Shaking. Wordless. But she wasn't crying. Patina was the only pony doing that.

"You seem to have some trouble with basic directions," Twilight finished. "We'll walk you to the train."

Twilight kept her corona going until the last puff of the distant steamstack dispersed into the late afternoon air.

"Finally," she sighed, and let her horn go dark. "She may not be the strongest filly in the world, but being braced to stop her for that long, in case she tried to take the temper tantrums out on Ponyville, holding that all the way to the station, then waiting for the train..."

Spike nodded. "We'll get you some kale on the way back, and I'll make it for you once we're home."

With a smile of gratitude, "Thank you, Spike."

"Because you need some recovery food and time after casting that brand-new spell," her brother continued.

"Definitely."

"Which doesn't actually exist."

"No," Twilight shrugged -- then smiled. "But it's a really good idea for one, don't you think? I should probably work on it sometime."

Rarity softly laughed. "So will there be a scroll coming from this?"

"Several," Twilight admitted as she began to trot away from the waiting area, friend and sibling trailing in her wake. "I really do have to alert law enforcement, and I sure want to let the Archives know about her."

"But she can't actually change the books that way," Spike pointed out. "Not without opening them. Differentiation, remember?"

Twilight nodded. "But just making every last cover all one hue is bad enough." Which produced an instinctive shudder at the thought of an entire Archive worth of single-shade books. "Maybe that's what she was aiming for when she got my juice. She pushed her field through the open window, but she didn't know what was on the other side..."

Rarity picked up her pace a little. "You should let them know, yes. But that is not quite what I meant, dear. I was thinking about a scroll sent to the Princess. Perhaps something concerning your recently having learned how to bluff...?"

It got a giggle. "That's... kind of an awkward subject for a letter, Rarity."

Gently, with more than a touch of pride, "Motive reading, then? Because in the end, you were right."

"Maybe," Twilight considered. But she didn't have the words yet. "Do you want to go get some food? I'll buy. I know --" and the realization hit hard enough to hurt, stopping the trot in its tracks "-- oh, Rarity, you missed a day of sales, a tourist day! I'm sorry... I shouldn't have kept you out here for so long..."

A hoof gently touched her right shoulder. "Without you, Twilight, I would have had no stock left worth selling. There is always tomorrow."

"Unless something else happens," Twilight sighed.

"True," Rarity smiled her agreement. "And then there is always another little adventure. Still, I do rather look forward to suing Ms. Patina in court over my lost income, if only for what I am picturing as her expression when she is presented with the summons. Oh, I must ask -- were you able to copy the color-changing spell?"

A long pause -- and then Twilight shook her head. "Not from just feeling it being undone and stopping it before it could reach the targets. But honestly, Rarity? I think I can live without it."

"I rather agree --" and an abrupt pause, followed by "-- do you see that?"

Twilight glanced back, checked the angle of Rarity's gaze, then matched it. "That streak?"

"It's coming straight for us," Spike observed, shading his eyes. "Do you think --"

It hit the ground.

It was... orange. It was orange in the way Twilight's juice had not been orange. It was orange in a way nothing had ever been before, and one which nothing of sanity would ever wish to be again. And then there was the mane and tail to consider. They showed all the primary hues of a prism, only inverted, in entirely the wrong order, and fractured from a light which Sun had never produced.

"Found you!" the pegasus gasped. "You weren't at the library, and I've been flying all over town! As much as I could without anypony seeing me! I just took a nap, and -- it's not fur dye, there's no smell and I tried to wash, I was washing for almost an hour and it's not coming off, so it's gotta be unicorn magic, Twilight, somepony pranked me, this totally awesome prank which I can't do because it's unicorn magic and that makes it really stupid... Can you dispel it? Counter? Scrub? Whatever it's called? I was gonna hit the bar tonight and I can't go like this..."

They all stared at the formerly blue, currently orange Rainbow.

"...guys?"

Stared, with palms over mouth and fields clamped tight around jaws.

Huffily, "You're trying not to laugh. I can see you're all trying not to laugh. Just because I'm on the receiving end for a change -- you'd better not laugh..."

And Twilight, who had spent nearly three years in finally learning about empathy and understanding and forgiveness, let the laughter come, and heard the chorus erupt from brother and friend -- and, after a moment, friends, for Rainbow could see it from their perspectives, understood, and so the pegasus forgave them all.

...eventually.